Second Chances
by SparklingSnowfall
Summary: YAOI. Undie/Grell-Undertaker rescues Grell, finding the redhead feverish and in a condition that reminds him of the recent Jack-the-Ripper cases. Curious, Undertaker decides to nurse Grell back to health. He gains a new experimental specimen and possibly more. Originally for an mpreg comm challenge.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One**_

_(Takes place before the Campania arc. Written for a challenge, so the story is a bit fast.)_

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"Wiiill! I am perfectly fine! Though, your concern for me is flattering," Grell exclaimed with a grin and batted his long, false eyelashes over chartreuse pupils. His flirting should distract William long enough for him to escape the droll paperwork at Shinigami Dispatch to get back to doing what he did best, reaping human souls. "One of these days, you'll admit that you really do love me!"

"You are not leaving this office until you at least promise to see a physician as soon as your mission is completed," William Spears insisted, glaring at the flamboyant redhead, his jaw clenched tightly in displeasure as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the blade of his death scythe.

"Oh, fine," Grell huffed and pouted while crossing his fingers behind his back and leaning forward. "I promise. Happy now?"

William narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but nodded just the same. Considering Alan Humphries had been diagnosed with the Thorns of Death disease, he found it difficult to allow Grell out the door without a check-up, but Grell had been under punishment for months now and William was worried his associate would crack if not given some freedom. Not that the redhead wasn't already as cracked as they came.

"I must hurry then, my Cold Knight. My grand entrance awaits," Grell purred, slinking up next to the tall brunette and giving him a peck on the cheek. Grell Sutcliff pranced out the door, red hair a teasing wave behind his ass. "Toodles!"

William's eyes narrowed even further. He'd felt the unnatural heat in that kiss. Shinigami didn't often fall ill, and when they did, it was usually something serious. He was tempted to follow after Sutcliff, but if he did that, he'd have tons of overtime waiting for him when he returned. Surely, Grell could take care of himself for a few hours.

William sighed and leaned the pole of his personally styled death scythe next to his desk. He had carved a knot into the edge of the desk to hold his pruning shears conveniently at his side. He sat in his swivel chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. William had specifically chosen Grell's first job to keep Grell too busy to get into trouble, but now, with a fever, the job could get dangerous.

How was he supposed to concentrate on his paperwork?

Minutes later, Grell stood atop a building in the heavy manufacturing section of London, grateful for the cold wind that blew his hair away from his neck. Thankfully, the wind also carried away much of the disgusting smell from this part of the human city. A white, lacy, and quite damp handkerchief hung from his hand.

"At this rate, my makeup is going to run before the play begins," Grell complained as he dabbed perspiration from his forehead.

Impatiently tapping his foot, he pulled out his death scythe while staring at the dingy, two-story, brick building across the road. A loud boom sent a shockwave through the building and ground until Grell could feel it from where he stood. Flames burst from the windows.

"Ah! The curtain has risen on this passionate play," he said with a smirk. "Urk!"

Grell nearly bent double and pressed a hand to his swollen abdomen as it twinged. "Be good, you! Now is not the time!"

He straightened then vaulted to the top of the burning building, nothing but a blur of red hair and full-length red coat flaring out behind him. His scythe, fashioned similar to a chain saw, whirred to life as soon as he'd landed on his feet.

"Here I come, my sweeties!" Grell sing-songed and plunged into the depths of the building, slicing straight through the ceiling with his scythe.

This job turned out to be a messy one. Water, oil, broken pipes spewing who knew what was everywhere, but Grell was able to dance out of the way of most of it. Exhaustion eventually began creeping in as he hunted down those who'd had the nerve to hide themselves away from him. How could he ever paint them in passionate red if he couldn't find them?

Pain, fever and fatigue were causing Grell's vision waiver, or maybe it was the heat creating an illusion. He wasn't sure. He blinked several times at his death list until it came into focus. Just one more left. Where was she? Another explosion rocked the building and blew out any remaining windows. Grell wiped black ash from his cheek.

"Oh! What a disaster! How can I be the star when I'm such a mess!"

He angrily snapped the book shut and stomped off in search of the last soul that needed reaping, dancing around flames, leaping across puddles, and ducking broken pipes and timber. This was turning out to be quite a messy job! William had to have given him the assignment as punishment for something. Grell had no clue what that something was, but he would find out!

"There you are!" Grell exclaimed as he swept into a room lit only by a gray, wintry sky. Grell shivered when a chill wind blew through the shattered windows and broken frames.

"Shame on you for hiding from me like that," he reprimanded the body.

Grell approached the deceased young female. She'd almost made it to the windows, but it looked as though an explosion had blown a metal pole straight through her heart, pinning her to a wall. It had been a quick and clean kill. At least her face had been partially painted a delightful red.

Grell grinned at the beauty of it all. "All right, sleeping beauty, let's see your cinematic records!"

Grell swung his scythe diagonally across the woman and her records leapt out of her lifeless shell. Unfortunately, a fit of dizziness hit Grell and he dropped his scythe at the end of the swing. It spun across the floor, hitting a nearby wall. It could wait to retrieve it, he decided, and opened his book while her records played.

"My, my, you've been a very busy girl!" Grell's eyes lit up as he witnessed one very handsome butler giving the woman bedroom eyes. "Sebas-chan, you cheated on me! How could you?"

In a fit of fevered pique, Grell lashed out to slap his fantasy love, Ciel Phantomhive's demon butler, Sebastian. It was a mistake even novice's shouldn't make. Grell should have known better, did know better. Anger, pain, and fever clouded his judgement, his sense of reality. Sebastian should be taking care of him instead of seducing another woman!

As soon as his hand touched the frame holding that seductive face, Grell's mind fell into the memory. He was her, and she was with his Sebas-chan, his occasional crush. Sensation consumed him; sight, scent, touch, taste, and desire. To finally have his fantasies fulfilled was well beyond any of Grell's previous expectations.

"Oh, Sebby! You devil!" Grell giggled as the demon butler began teasingly peeling away layers of clothing.

Across the street, in almost the same spot that Grell had stood, a tall, lone figure in black mourning robes gazed at the scene. Cinematic records, extensive loops of film, enveloped the red shinigami. A dangerous situation to be sure. The woman's soul would fight and attempt to devour the reaper. Such a shame.

When the explosion had occurred, curiosity had gotten the better of the mortician and he'd come to see what all the racket was about. He'd been surprised to see a familiar figure. Excessively long, silver hair billowed over the edge of the building as he squatted and squinted his two-toned, yellow and chartreuse eyes for a better view.

"Tsk, tsk. I thought I recognized you, Little Red," Undertaker mumbled. He grinned and chuckled. "Ah, should I interfere? Or should I let you go. Decisions, decisions."

Upon their first meeting, the red reaper had been such a delight that Undertaker had allowed Grell to bury him in a barrel of salt. Humans had brought Grell to the mortician believing the fellow was dead. It seemed this particular reaper didn't care for breathing while he slept. Of course, Undertaker had insulted Grell, claiming that he didn't make a very good corpse. It was true, Grell hadn't been dead at all. Too bad Undertaker's mouth had riled the redhead's vicious temper.

Undertaker reached up under his large, black hat and scratched his head.

"Ah well. You are too cute and too entertaining for your own good. Such a talented little actress. I suppose I'll be your knight for today. Best hurry before the humans start crawling everywhere like ants," Undertaker mumbled to himself then rose to stand at the very edge of the ledge he was perched upon.

Cackling madly, he soared from the roof in a streak of silver and black. Undertaker sailed through the broken window closest to Grell and materialized his scythe, easily slicing through the cinematic records that had tightly bound the other reaper. He managed to catch Grell before the unconscious shinigami could hit the floor. While holding Grell close with his left arm, he took care of the rest of the cinematic records then collected Grell's death scythe.

"Time to wake up, Princess," Undertaker said with a grin that promptly faded. Little Red wasn't waking up.

Quickly banishing his scythe, Undertaker pressed the back of his fingers against Grell's forehead and frowned. A sick shinigami? Practically unheard of.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

"Let's see what we have now, Lovely," Undertaker murmured absently to his patient and laid Grell on one of his examination tables. "Those records couldn't have so quickly caused this level of fever. Hmm."

Undertaker washed his hands, filled a bowl full of clean water, then grabbed a cloth. He placed them on a cart and wheeled it over to the table. Feeling Grell's forehead, Undertaker knew it was much too hot. He wet the cloth and dabbed Grell's face, careful of the false eyelashes and makeup.

"You need to wake up, Deary, or old Undertaker will need to unclothe you himself," Undertaker muttered.

He chuckled a bit madly, imagining the redheaded reaper calling him a creepy old pervert. After a few more attempts to wake Grell, Undertaker gave up and began disrobing his new patient. He had decades of practice on human corpses, and this thin shinigami was feather light in comparison.

At first glance, except for the emaciated condition of the specimen, there was nothing noticeably out of place. However, upon picking up his magnifier, something he'd taken to using in cases for which he needed to discover a cause of death, Undertaker found the barest thin, pink line just above Grell's pelvic bone, hidden amongst a few red pubic hairs. Easy to miss with his shinigami near-sightedness.

"My my, what have you done to yourself, hm?"

He gently felt along the scar and noted it was puffy, though mostly healed. Undertaker contemplated the possible purpose for surgery in that area as he felt around Grell's abdomen. He noted a slight distension, fever as well. Grell was just so thin that it had been difficult to realize any swelling at all.

"Hm, should I open you up...or not? What do you say, Princess?"

Undertaker gave his patient a few moments to respond, perusing the unusually pale flesh in the meantime. Of course, Undertaker knew Grell wasn't in any condition to answer. Nevertheless, his patient deserved the opportunity to object.

"I'll make you a deal. If you don't wake up or show improvement within twenty-four hours, I'll open you up. If you do achieve consciousness before then, I'll find out what's going on and ask you again," Undertaker said to the figure on his table. "Well then, let's get you dressed for bed and I'll take you to the guest room upstairs."

While humming a jaunty tune, Undertaker retrieved a rich emerald green, velvet nightgown with white lace trimmings from an armoire that sat against the wall. Grell appreciated pretty things and Undertaker was certain that the little actress would appreciate the gown. He simply wouldn't mention that he'd obtained the gown from a corpse. It had been too pretty to throw away, so he'd cleaned it up and kept it.

Once he had his new patient dressed and the makeup repaired, Undertaker carried Grell upstairs. He sat Grell into a chair and made his unconscious charge comfortable, then carried pillows and blankets from the bed to the window and shook out the dust.

Undertaker tended to sleep in a coffin, so his bedroom mostly went unattended. His lovely guest deserved better. 'She' hadn't appreciated it when she'd woken up in one of his coffins on their first meeting. Undertaker giggled the memory.

Undertaker knew that Grell saw himself as a woman, and perhaps he had been in his human life. That made Undertaker pause as he straightened the blankets. Could the redheaded reaper have been trying to change himself? He'd never heard of something like that happening before. But, no, the manly parts were still there. Maybe he'd been trying to add parts?

"Poor dear," Undertaker said as he lifted Grell and laid him onto the bed.

The mortician's night was spent attempting to keep Grell's fever under control. Sometimes the sweet thing would mumble about people in his life, and most often those were 'Sebas-chan' or 'Will'. Undertaker knew Sebastian, the demon who'd made a contract with the little Earl, Ciel Phantomhive. He supposed Will was a co-worker.

The one rambling Undertaker didn't understand was about a baby, though he did guess that it had something to do with what was going on with Grell's abdomen. There was no child there, at least not one with a soul. Nevertheless, Undertaker could take an educated guess at what Grell had done.

There had been a string of killings in which female organs had been taken. A reaper had been involved and Undertaker had discovered that the female victims' reproduction organs had been surgically removed by a professional. When young Ciel Phantomhive had come to Undertaker for information, he mentioned an otherworldly influence in the killings. That influence may be the very creature lying in his bed.

Ciel, the Queen's good little watchdog, had reported to the Queen that those killings had been the result of one Madame Red, or Dr. Durless, as she had been professionally known. The woman happened to be Ciel's aunt. Small world. And it was true, but didn't account for the outside influence.

Undertaker later found out from Ciel that the victims had been Dr. Durless' patients, women who'd demanded abortions. He'd thought the woman had simply taken out her pain of barrenness on those women. Perhaps he'd been right, but staring at Grell from his bedside, Undertaker knew there may have been a secondary purpose.

The night had been a long one and the sky was beginning to brighten when Undertaker heard a knock on the shop's door. He could tell the time by tiny pinpricks of light stabbing through cracks in the shutters, not that he needed those to tell him what his internal clock already knew.

Anyone who knew Undertaker, knew that it was _way _too early to be having business meetings.

So annoying. Leaving Grell's side wasn't something that appealed to Undertaker. His patient hadn't worsened, but he hadn't improved enough worth mentioning. Besides, he enjoyed watching over the pretty thing and didn't appreciate the interruption.

Despite the 'Closed' sign on the door, the bloke on the other side continued knocking, and not very politely either. Undertaker huffed as he brushed his bangs back down to cover his eyes and placed his large hat on his head. As he strode to the door, he wondered if the interloper was daft.

Undertaker yanked open the front door to find a well groomed chap on the other side. Displeased at having been called from the side of his sick princess, Undertaker wasn't exactly kind, shoving his face right up into the other man's.

"Can you read, chap?" he asked, pointing to the sign and standing close enough to the man that he could see his eyes.

Ah, he would need to be careful of this one. A reaper, likely one of Grell's associates. Still, the man had been rude with his loud knocking at the asscrack of dawn. He pointed a long spindly finger at the sign on the door.

"The sign says 'Closed'!"

"Of course," the man said, completely ignoring Undertaker's ire and holding out a business card. "William T. Spears, Central London Dispatch. This is the location of a missing associate of mine and I've come to retrieve him."

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three**_

"Can't say as I've heard of the place," Undertaker said with a giggle as he looked at the card.

So, this was 'Will', and he'd followed Grell's aura. Undertaker supposed he could allow him in for a few moments. He opened the door wider and waved William inside.

"If you're speaking of my patient, transport would not be good for his health," Undertaker informed the stiff man in the black suit as he wove his way to the counter, the sleeves of his robe flapping. Undertaker grabbed his cookie jar and used his lengthy black nails to retrieve a couple of cookies that were shaped like bones.

"Cookie?" he offered William with a much too wide grin.

"No, but thank you for the offer," William flatly replied. He shoved his glasses up on his nose, his eyes narrowing as they flitted around the many coffins in the shop. "Where is he?"

"He's unconscious and running a high fever. I'm sure he'll come right back to you as soon as he's well enough to travel," Undertaker replied and bit off half of a cookie.

Undertaker was fairly certain he knew why the redhead hadn't seen fit to see a shinigami physician. He had a secret and Undertaker decided to help him keep it. After all, if he handed over the redhead now, he'd never have his questions answered. Besides, this chap didn't look as though he could give him a first rate laugh no matter how hard he tried. Why give him anything for free?

The reaper narrowed his eyes at the mortician. Something about him felt familiar, but William couldn't say what. And, he wasn't yet willing to leave Grell in the hands of this stranger.

"I can take him to see a physician," William countered.

"Hn, well, I do believe our patient's problem is beyond the scope of most medical professionals," Undertaker replied with a smirk. "I'm quite capable of seeing to him myself, and since he's already here, there's no need to upset his condition by moving him."

William didn't want to raise the suspicions of a human, but he also couldn't simply leave. Shinigami were much different than humans, so he couldn't see how this human was so convinced he could offer treatment. Perhaps the mortician would at least be willing to allow him to see Grell, so that he could make his own assessment.

"May I see him?" Spears asked.

"Certainly, as long as you promise to leave him undisturbed," Undertaker replied.

William nodded his assent, then followed the decrepit old man down a short, dusty, dark, and narrow hall to a closed door. Beyond the door and up the stairs was a similar hall that led to a bedroom. The rickety old door creaked on its hinges as it swung open and William followed the human inside. The room was dusty. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. This was not a fitting place for the ill. Nevertheless, the four poster bed appeared decent.

Undertaker stood off to the side and watched the shinigami approach Grell's bedside. Even though William's demeanor was stiff, Undertaker noticed his eyes soften when he took in Grell's appearance. Undertaker leaned against the wall and watched as William reached out and touched the back of his fingers against Grell's rosy cheek.

"He should not be this ill," William commented and frowned, but didn't ask for a diagnosis. "You're certain you can treat him?"

"Very certain," Undertaker replied with a quiet giggle. "He'll be chipper in no time!"

William noticed a water basin sitting on the bedside stand, a cloth resting on its side. Wetting the material and wringing it out, William pressed it against Grell's forehead.

"Ung...Wiiiill," Grell whined and turned his head toward William, but didn't open his eyes.

"Seems he knows you're here," Undertaker commented, then sharply continued. "However, you need to leave. I don't have time for visitors right now."

Undertaker didn't appreciate the reaper touching his prize, but was tickled when William sent him a slanted glare.

"I will return tomorrow. If he is no better, he's coming with me," William said as he walked toward the door.

Undertaker held the door open. Once they were in the hall, he quietly closed it behind them.

"So...what is that redhead to you?" Undertaker asked from directly behind William. "Certainly, he isn't a simple associate."

Undertaker heard the reaper sigh.

"Grell is similar to a rampaging toddler that requires constant supervision, otherwise he continuously gets himself into...trouble," the reaper replied as they entered the parlor.

"Hm, you look out for him then?" Undertaker asked, clicking his long black nails together. He was certain the redhead wouldn't appreciate the comparison William had made. And, it didn't appear as though Mr. Spears had been doing a very good job looking out for his charge.

"When he allows it," William replied with a scowl.

That did make some sort of sense. Nevertheless, Undertaker wasn't impressed.

"All right then! Leave it up to me, old chap!" Undertaker said with a grin and sashayed to the front door, swinging it wide. He may not be able to give Grell his twenty-four hours after all, and the quicker Mr. Spears left, the quicker he could get to work.

It was obvious to Undertaker that William was far from happy with the quick dismissal, and there was the chance he would not leave the area. Ah, well. Couldn't be helped. Undertaker stood at the door grinning until the reaper was outside then swiftly slammed the door shut and bolted it.

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

"All right! Time to wake up, Dearie," Undertaker said as he placed a ball of cotton, soaked in smelling salts, under Grell's nose.

"Ung," Grell moaned and turned his head, trying to avoid the noxious odor.

"That's it. Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Undertaker chuckled, following Grell's nose with the cottonball until the redhead spluttered and cracked open an eye.

"You!?" Grell rasped.

"Hm, yes, me," Undertaker replied with a chuckle as he tossed the cottonball into a trash can.

"What...happened?" Grell asked as he took in his surroundings.

Undertaker hadn't exactly considered what he'd tell the reaper. Best to be vague. He wasn't quite ready to give up his identity.

"I found you in a burning building and brought you here," he informed Grell. "You are running quite a fever, my dear. Would it have anything to do with this?" he asked, tapping the blanket over Grell's abdomen with a long fingernail.

Undertaker watched as Grell's hand moved under the blanket to cover his abdomen. Grell's lips turned down at the corners and his eyes were sad as he caressed his belly. However, he didn't answer Undertaker's question.

"Unless we get this fixed, you'll remain ill. I'm certain you'll eventually get over it, even without intervention, but it will be painful and take some time," Undertaker said evenly.

Grell sighed. "Another failed experiment, that's all."

"It smells like a human part," Undertaker commented, encouraging Grell to give up information.

The redhead huffed. Undertaker couldn't tell if it was the fever causing Grell's eyes to water, or if he was actually crying.

"It's rotting, just like all the others," Grell said, but didn't offer anything else.

"Hm, so you've done this before," Undertaker mused and ran a finger over his lips.

"Humph! I thought that woman was different. After all the work I put into helping her kill those women, she turned out be just an ordinary human, after all, so I had to kill her! Now I just have to wait for my body to absorb this piece of garbage she put in me," Grell replied angrily.

"I can remove it for you...for a price," Undertaker said with a grin.

Grell's eyes slanted to Undertaker. "I'm not in the mood for telling jokes."

"I only want information. What were you trying to accomplish?" Undertaker asked.

Grell looked away and stared at the shaded window. By Grell's silence and downcast visage, Undertaker could tell the redhead might not give him the information he wanted.

"Come now. I'm not here to judge you, my dear," Undertaker said, attempting to comfort his patient. "I'm just curious."

"Why would you care?" Grell asked without turning back gaze at the mortician, all silver, black, and kooky grins.

Undertaker chuckled. "I never said I did, did I?"

"You brought me here," Grell pointed out. This time he did turn to look at Undertaker. "And I don't feel any injuries."

Grell pulled his hand out from under the blanket and felt around his face, head and neck.

"Yes, well, I find you rather amusing. Couldn't very well let you die in that fire, could I?" Undertaker replied with a grin, but his smile was soft.

Grell stared at the sleeve of the gown Undertaker had dressed him in. It was drawn at the wrist with white lace hanging over his hand.

"Do you like it? I thought it matched your lovely green eyes," Undertaker commented.

"It's soft," Grell murmured. "And pretty."

"Umhm," Undertaker hummed and nodded. "I'm glad you like it."

Grell dropped his hand and stared at Undertaker.

"That woman...Madame Red...she was attempting to help grant me the ability to carry a child," Grell said with a pout. "None of the parts ever lived though."

"Ah, yes," Undertaker nodded. "Your body is just too different from humans, my dear. You would have been better off with demon parts."

"Will would never abide something like that," Grell huffed, wondering just how much this man knew of what he was.

"So, you did it for him?" Undertaker asked, very curious now.

"I've been working with that man for...a long time! And he still won't give me the time of day. I thought...maybe this would work," Grell said through a pout.

Undertaker was aware that this information had probably only been given because Grell was still quite fevered, but that didn't bother him.

"Well then, since you were so nice as to answer my questions, how would you like for me to remove that nasty organ from your body?" Undertaker asked. "I have a lot to do today and would rather get this done and out of the way. Your Will is coming to fetch you tomorrow."

"Will?! Does...does he know?" Grell asked worriedly.

"I didn't tell him a thing. We can get this taken care of and you'll be right as rain by tomorrow morning, if a little sore," Undertaker replied.

Grell nodded and Undertaker stood.

"I would offer you some water, but that wouldn't be very healthy before surgery. Allow me to prepare the lab and then we'll get you downstairs," Undertaker said, then turned to leave.

"Thanks," Grell said quietly.

Undertaker turned back to look at his patient. "It's nothing. I might still charge you a first rate laugh once you're feeling better," he said with a too wide grin and a giggle, then let himself out of the room.

Once out in the hallway, Undertaker frowned. It was unlike Grell to be so morose. The redhead was more the flamboyant type. He must be feeling terrible to lose his personality. What had happened to him? Surely, a child couldn't be that important.

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_Knowmefirst did an awesome banner for the story. You can find it here: http (colon) /works/1336447 _

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter Five**_

Undertaker was happy that Grell's surgery had gone smoothly. The human organs had been removed and the area thoroughly cleansed. Carting Grell safely back to bed had been the hardest part. He sat by the bed, his bangs still pinned back out of his eyes as he considered his patient.

It was too bad the redhead was so out of sorts. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be uncomfortable in ones own skin. Grell was a pretty little thing though. Given the proper clothing, he could easily pass for a female. However, granting the ability to carry a child was something even the legendary Undertaker wouldn't be able to do for the little darling.

Ah well. Undertaker feared he was becoming attached to Grell; cute body that didn't breathe when unconscious, so much like the dollies he'd been preparing for Count Druitt. He rather liked his dollies, but they had no passion. Grell seemed to be exuberantly passionate about everything. Such a bright splash of color in the dull, gray world.

Undertaker found himself wanting to keep the redhead.

What a joke! Undertaker had to cover his mouth to muffle his laughter. Grell would cut him in half for thinking such a thing. Such a little spitfire!

Undertaker grinned. Grell didn't have the experience to take down a legendary reaper such as himself. In terms of age, Grell was only a child. 'Cradle robber' whispered through Undertaker's mind and he promptly squashed it.

He wondered if Grell had truly wanted a child or if all of this was only to snare his love interest. That was an interesting question. And what if Grell did want a child? He certainly couldn't get one the way he was going about it.

Undertaker frowned. Was there a way? He hadn't been able to give true life to his dollies, but could he give Grell a child, if that's what the reaper wanted? It was impossible for Undertaker to create a soul. Would a soul create itself if he could bring life to a creature?

Ooh! A new experiment!

Undertaker grinned and threaded his fingers together beneath his chin as he searched his mind for some way to actually create a life and transplant it inside of Grell. Hm, it would need to be able to form without the typical womb...there would need to be an empty shell of an egg and something to fertilize it. Undertaker wondered just how far he could take crossbreeding.

"What do you say, Lovely? Want to take part in a new experiment? Hmmm? Heehee! We shall see!" Undertaker cackled.

Undertaker swiftly left his still unconscious patient in order to consult his texts. There had to be some way to at least imitate pregnancy and produce some type of offspring. There were demons that reproduced through infecting other creatures. If he could acquire the infection then alter it to accept fertilization from another source, it might just be possible.

There were problems of course. Shinigami who were made from humans were typically sterile. Of course, Undertaker knew he was the only original left, having been made Death. If it was possible, if he could reproduce, would Grell accept a contribution from him? Certainly, the redhead wouldn't want to give birth to demon spawn.

Undertaker tapped his lips with a claw as he tipped a book that caused the bookcase to swing away from the wall. Inside were exceedingly ancient texts. He browsed through the titles in the physiology section and retrieved a book on demon reproduction.

"Heheh, too bad angels can't reproduce," Undertaker muttered with a chuckle.

After selecting a few more books, he righted the case and hauled the stack upstairs. Grell was still unconscious, so Undertaker took the opportunity to make some tea and put together a light meal. It wasn't necessary, but Undertaker felt the desire to pamper the little Princess.

He was just preparing to take the tray upstairs when the parlor door opened and he heard his name called out.

"How fortuitous," Undertaker giggled and set the tray down before practically dancing out of the kitchen to greet his guests.

"Why, if it isn't the young Earl Phantomhive," Undertaker said as he enthusiastically skipped over and leaned down to face the boy, unsurprised at the slight widening of Ciel's bright blue eyes. Undertaker had on his hat, concealing his true nature as a shinigami, but his grin could still be formidable. "What can I do for you today?"

It was always amusing to watch the young lad steel himself to deal with the old informant.

"Are you perhaps here to be measured for one of my special custom coffins?" Undertaker asked and giggled, delighted when the earl tensed.

Undertaker grinned and ignored the ire of the demon butler that accompanied Ciel Phantomhive. Oh yes, he was aware that the demon had contracted to feed on the boy's soul. Undertaker had other plans though. The demon would just have to die before Undertaker allowed that to happen.

"We are here for information," the demon butler said stiffly.

"Of course, of course," Undertaker said with a wave of his hand and pranced over to his cookie jar. "But, your master knows my price."

Undertaker chuckled at the scowling earl and exasperated butler.

"Though, I could make an exception this time...should Sebastian be willing to bring me some rather difficult to find items," Undertaker crooned, delighted when the demon frowned.

Undertaker pulled out a piece of paper, quill and ink then quickly made a list of possible things he might need.

"This is just a start, since you have come so early in the day. I haven't had time to properly prepare the list," he said as he swooped up to the demon butler and held the list in front of its face.

"Can you do it, Sebastian?" Ciel asked.

Undertaker could tell that the butler wished to snarl at him, but that didn't scare Death.

"Yes, Master, though it may take a little time," Sebastian replied with a grimace and glared at Undertaker.

The little earl nodded and they got down to business. As it turned out, Undertaker didn't have any information, which was a clue in and of itself. The bodies Ciel expected to find had never come through Undertaker's shop. With that clue alone, the bargain still held and Undertaker was certain he would have most, if not all, that he needed in order to begin helping the cute shinigami that lay in his own bed.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters.**  
**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter Six**_

The food and tea Undertaker had made was well received by his patient, though Grell did eat rather slowly. The redhead's hands shook too much to handle his own food, so Undertaker sat on the edge of the bed and fed the shinigami one mouthful at a time, trying to keep up a small amount of chitchat while he was at it. It was the perfect opportunity to dig for information.

"Why would you think Mr. Spears would be willing to accept you if you could give birth?" Undertaker asked. He couldn't bring up that Mr. Spears was probably sterile. That was information he shouldn't know if he were to keep his cover.

Grell sighed as Undertaker took the teacup away from his lips.

"Desperation? I'm not a quitter, but I've waited long enough," Grell said, crossing his arms and glaring at his lap. "I may be persistent, but I'm no fool."

Undertaker grinned at the belligerent pout. "And...what if you could bear a child and he still didn't want you?"

That seemed to give Grell pause. Undertaker thought it was cute how the redhead delicately chewed at his bottom lip. The fact that his sharp teeth didn't rend and tear the tender flesh was a testament to Grell's skill at controlling himself.

"I guess I would find someone else who would appreciate my ability," Grell said in a small, faraway voice.

"Do you believe you even have the skills to raise a child?" Undertaker asked. It was a necessary question. Why bring a life into the world only for it to be cut short due to incompetence?

Grell gave Undertaker a look of disgust.

"If I cared enough for the daddy to house his spawn, I'd love the little parasite. It would have the best care, but my man had better be ready to take care of us because I refuse to work. No one other than myself is going to take care of our little sprout," Grell huffed. "Will is that kind of man. He would take care of a wife and child."

Undertaker didn't like it when Grell's expression saddened and felt the need to comfort him. He reached out and cupped Grell's cheek with his right hand. The shinigami's eyes widened.

"You are naturally affectionate, aren't you?" Undertaker asked as he ran a thumb over Grell's lips. "I think I like that. Though I can say that my amusement with your flamboyant nature is what draws me to you."

Undertaker pressed a finger to his own lips and grinned. "Shhh."

He removed his hat and brushed back his bangs, revealing the sign of his origins, his eyes. "Care to show old Undertaker how affectionate you can be?"

"Pervert!" Grell exclaimed, obviously missing what Undertaker had just tried to reveal to him.

Undertaker, undeterred and pushed by eons of loneliness, and by the cutest damsel in distress, chuckled, stood, and divested himself of his dusty old cloak. He whipped out his death scythe, striking a pose. Tight fitting, black leather hugged his thin legs, straps and buckles covering every inch. Grave markers were visible, hanging against the inside of his long coat. No longer squashed by his hat, his silver bangs hung limp and slightly parted to reveal his two-toned, yellow and chartreuse irises.

"I will never work as a reaper again, but I could provide for you and a little Sprout," Undertaker said with a maniacal grin and once again shoved his bangs back out of his face.

Even though he was unsure of what he was doing or why, Undertaker grinned as Grell's mouth hung open, his eyes wide. He spun in a circle.

"Like what you see? I would accept the queen's coin if only to take care of you," Undertaker said as he completed his circle and stood with one hip tilted, a hand propped against his waist while the other held his death scythe.

"Y-You're an original!" Grell gasped. He pointed at Undertaker. "You're _him_!" Grell squealed and grinned as he began crawling across the bed.

"Him?" Undertaker asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Yes, yes! You disappeared. It is said that the souls of children would willingly come to you. Now I see why! Ooh!" Grell exclaimed as he reached the end of the mattress and sat back on his legs, his hands clutched together. "Can I touch?"

Undertaker chuckled as Grell reached out, Grell's fingers making snatching motions. Undertaker banished his scythe, took Grell's hands in his, and sat next to him on the bed.

"Oooh, you're not a dusty old human! Quite handsome," Grell said, pulling his hands from Undertaker's and brushing back the silvery bangs. "Wow."

Grell giggled and Undertaker smiled, happy to see Grell's cheerful nature back in place.

"I promise, I would protect your smile if you allow me to..." he looked down at Grell's abdomen. "I may be able to provide you with a sprout, but I'd take you without."

"You would?" Grell asked with wide eyes. "Why would you take me when you could have your pick of all the females?"

Undertaker grinned. "Perhaps it is your smile, or the maddening sparkle in your eyes when you find something you like. You, despite your reaper status, are full of life. Considering my job, a lively, most lovely corpse is the perfect medicine for my loneliness."

"You certainly know how to sweet talk a girl," Grell said, blushing and swatting Undertaker's chest.

This was going well, Undertaker thought to himself, until Grell's eyes took on a calculating gleam. Undertaker sobered and stared at Grell, eyes serious.

"How would I get away from London Dispatch?" Grell asked quietly. "They wouldn't allow me to marry a retired reaper, much less allow me to neglect my reaper duties."

Undertaker smirked. "How long have I successfully hidden from them? I won't have you worrying your pretty head about it, but you may need to return while I make preparations."

Grell nodded, chewing his lower lip and pressed up against Undertaker, cuddling into him. "So...I would have to permanently give up being a reaper?"

"I don't see any alternative," Undertaker replied and ran his fingers through Grell's flaming tresses.

"A-And maybe we could have a brat or two...or three?" Grell asked, staring up at Undertaker with large, questioning eyes.

"Why don't we see if we can manage one first," Undertaker chuckled as his arms encircled Grell and he kissed Grell's forehead. "It will take some time to gather and prepare the items I need. In the meantime, you'll heal and go back to work. I'll give you my number. Best to take things slowly."

Though Grell's fever had improved, his forehead was still warm against Undertaker's lips.

"I...might have second thoughts while I'm away, you know. I like my job, and I don't really know you at all, even if you are famous," Grell murmured.

"And, that's another reason for you to return to work. I doubt you're thinking all that clearly right now and I won't have you miserable later," Undertaker replied and squeezed Grell.

"You're kind of crazy. I know that much, but I like that about you," Grell said, ducking his head and Undertaker could hear the smile in his voice. "You're not at all stuffy like the suits in dispatch."

"Crazy?" Undertaker said with a grin. "My perceptions are simply filtered by my great age and experience. What may seem strange to others is quite natural to me."

"Would it seem strange to you if I wore dresses?" The question was quiet and Undertaker took note.

"It would seem strange if you did not," Undertaker replied softly. "Shopping could be one of our first excursions together."

The excited smile on Grell's face warmed Undertaker's withered old heart. It seemed that his interest in Grell was fast becoming a life-changing event, and he wasn't sure he minded all that much.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters.**  
**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter Seven**_

The candlelight burned low as Undertaker slouched over a dusty old tome in his front parlor. The aged, black fingernails of his right hand flipped pages until he finally folded it closed. He nodded to himself before propping his head in his left hand and playing with the flickering candlelight with the fingers on his right.

"Old fool," he muttered to himself.

He had made an educated guess and the list he'd given Sebastian was as complete as it could be. What he couldn't fathom was why he had so quickly taken to Grell, why he had exposed himself and offered himself up on a silver platter.

"I've become too impulsive in my old age," he sighed.

It was one thing to fool around with Count Druitt, the beautiful Aleister Chamber, because the man was hilariously arrogant and hedonistic. It was quite another thing to offer to settle down with Grell and work for the queen's coin, risk exposure, and of all things, raise a child, provided one could be created.

Despite Aleister Chamber's lack of compassion and his nefarious plots, his carefree personality gave him the appearance of innocent charm. Grell, however, was in a class of his own. He was so honest and wore his heart on his sleeve. Chamber's was a false, pale shadow compared to Grell's bright flame

There had never been any risk of becoming involved with the products of his own experiments. One thing Undertaker wasn't, a necrophiliac. He cherished the honesty of his dolls, dead flesh and looped cinematic records that could only seek a soul, but he harbored no true affection for them.

So why? Why had he been so fascinated with Grell? Fascinated in the same way a snake fascinates a bird.

Undertaker swirled his finger around and through the candle flame. Well...Grell was flamboyant and over the top in expressing his feelings. Such an amusing little thing. The redheaded reaper was a joy to watch in action.

Undertaker grinned as he recalled Grell's response to waking in one of his coffins. The redhead had been exceptionally energetic in expressing his displeasure, tossing Undertaker into a barrel and pouring salt over his head. Yes, he had thought about Grell quite often since that day, every time he used salt in fact. He chuckled at the memory of Grell burying him in a barrel of salt and how the red reaper had huffed and ranted.

Still, that couldn't be the only thing drawing him to Grell. Could it be the potential of an experiment with Grell that had him throwing caution to the wind? Undertaker would go far for his experiments, but to change his life so drastically? He'd heard that stage actors and actresses often fell in love through their roles and then fell out of love just as quickly, which was one of his reasons for sending Grell away. But what about himself? Was he simply in love with the idea of creating a being complete with soul intact? If so, why hadn't he taken such a liking to Druitt?

The fact remained that he could not create a soul. That chaffed. Oh, he might be able to force one into being, but in the end, he wasn't the creator. He would only be responsible for creating the flesh shell of it. Even then, he wouldn't have magicked up the body. It would grow just like any other flesh did...except...a shinigami had never carried and birthed a child. After all, the flesh was only a convenience for shinigami. They didn't even need to breathe. In fact, the heart could stop for a period of time with no ill effects. Reaper flesh was exceptionally resilient.

Could a creature be born of shinigami, demon, science, and blood magic? If it could, what type of creature would it be? Would it have a soul? Could he and Grell have affection for it?

Undertaker sighed as his scientifically oriented and curious brain derailed from his original purpose in taxing it. He could see that his curiosity might strengthen his affection for Grell. It was also possible that his affections could lessen once his experiment was complete, but, when he considered it closely, he doubted it. The flame of new discovery might dim, but Grell would always be a light in the damp darkness.

Had his years of solitude finally caught up with him? Perhaps Grell was correct and he had gone insane. To desire companionship after so long, and not just a quick tumble or two between the sheets, he must be cracking. But Grell...Everything Grell did made him smile, even when the redhead was angry.

Cracked. Completely. That was the only answer. If he followed his current course, he'd either become one happy fellow, or just another dead corpse. Undertaker supposed it didn't matter which, everyone returned to ashes and dust, eventually. The fun he might have on the way could make the trip well worth it.

Undertaker smiled and pressed the candle wick between his thumb and finger, snuffing out the light.

"Well then. What is life without a little adventure," Undertaker said, giggling as he climbed the stairs to check on Grell, his night of work and research complete.

When the stairs creaked under the weight of his steps, Undertaker frowned. He must be tired to be walking so heavily. It took some effort to tread lightly so as to allow Grell his sleep, but Undertaker managed. Not that it made much difference when he opened the creaky door to the bedroom. He needed to oil those hinges.

Undertaker quietly padded in as Grell sat up and delicately rubbed at his eyes.

"Something wrong?" Grell asked in a sleepy voice.

"No, I was just checking up on you," Undertaker said as he leaned over and rested his hand on Grell's forehead.

"I'm fine, not even sore," Grell said and covered a jaw cracking yawn. "Could probably go back to Dispatch tonight if I wanted, but this is a nice vacation. All that overtime is annoying and I'm still tired."

"That's because you are drained from your ordeal. You need rest," Undertaker softly replied and pressed Grell back down onto the pillow.

"Do I get a good night kiss?" Grell asked with a coy grin and fluttering eyelashes.

"Hm, would you like one?" Undertaker asked with a smirk.

"Please? I should at least see if we are compatible, yes?" Grell asked and fluttered his eyelashes.

"I suppose," Undertaker replied with a grin and took one of Grell's hands while moving to sit on the side of the bed.

Undertaker noticed a slight shiver run through Grell and glanced at the fireplace. The fire was low. He would need to add some wood.

"Getting cold feet?" Grell asked.

"Not at all, Princess. I simply noticed that you were cold and checked the fireplace. I'll add some wood before I leave."

"Hn, if you say so. Kiss me then," Grell insisted, leaning forward.

"My, my. You are starved for affection, aren't you?" Undertaker asked with a chuckle.

"Starved and dying!" Grell exclaimed and wrapped his arms around Undertaker's neck, pulling him closer.

"Slow down, Lovely. There's no hurry." Undertaker gripped Grell's shoulders and shoved him back down onto the bed. "We shouldn't rush. Our lips have never touched and we should make it a moment to remember. You must learn to savor the moment."

"You talk like a connoisseur."

Undertaker giggled when Grell huffed and blew his bangs out of his eyes. So that Grell wouldn't be able to act on his impatience, Undertaker took both of his hands and threaded their fingers together then pressed them into the pillow on each side of Grell's head. Grell's cheeks pinked prettily as Undertaker leaned down, but Undertaker avoided pressing their lips together and instead, pressed his lips to Grell's forehead.

It was difficult for Undertaker to hold back a grin when Grell huffed in impatience, but he managed. He trailed feather light kisses across Grell's eyebrows and planted soft kisses on his eyelids. That earned him a hum of satisfaction and he could feel Grell's arms and hands relax.

Grell's skin was cool compared to the fever he'd had earlier and Undertaker slid his cheek along Grell's and kissed his way along the redhead's jaw line then down his neck.

"Oooh, Undertaker!" Grell exclaimed, panting and wriggling as Undertaker suckled at his neck.

Undertaker took advantage of Grell arching and throwing his head back. The long expanse of his pale neck was too tempting and he tormented delicate skin with kisses, nips, and suckles until the younger reaper was fairly writhing under the blankets. Once he reached the white lace of the gowns collar, Undertaker supposed he'd tormented Grell enough and kissed his way back up Grell's neck and gave him a small peck on the chin.

"Hnnnn!" Grell whined and stared at him with steamy lust heating his yellow-green eyes. "Pleeeease?"

Undertaker smirked and released Grell's hands in favor of cupping both cheeks, then gently pressed their lips together. He felt Grell's arms slide around his sides until he was firmly embraced. That felt...nice. He closed his eyes and fell into the kiss, licking along Grell's bottom lip until Grell parted his lips.

The younger reaper tasted of the sweetened tea they'd last had together. Undertaker's tongue delved into Grell's mouth for a deeper taste, carefully skirting around the sharpened edges of teeth and sliding along Grell's tongue. When Grell responded, sucking at his tongue and pulling it deeper, a thrill skittered down Undertaker's spine and a tingling sensation in his chest caught his breath.

This sensation that warmed his chest was new, something Undertaker hadn't experienced with the Count, or with anyone else for that matter. It was simultaneously exhilarating and perplexing. Undertaker could have put an end to things there, and should have, but he wanted to understand these new sensations that were more than physical.

Undertaker explored Grell's mouth, running his tongue along the ridges of teeth and gums, winding it around Grell's tongue and sucking until Grell returned the favor. With greedy enthusiasm, Undertaker's body responded to Grell's roaming hands, pressing the thin body into the mattress. Undertaker's fingers threaded through Grell's thick mane of hair, trailing the shells of Grell's ears. His thumbs gently traced patterns along Grell's cheeks, jaw and neck.

Greed for more drove the desire to map every inch of Grell's body and Undertaker found himself losing control. He wanted nothing more than to strip their clothes away and take Grell right now. Undertaker wanted it so desperately that he was practically panting. When he paused to gaze at Grell, the red reaper seemed to be in much the same condition.

He should stop. He really should. Grell hadn't completely recovered from his ordeal. But...just one more kiss. One. More.

Undertaker groaned as he slowly untangled his tongue and slid it from Grell's mouth. He pulled away to see Grell panting, his cheeks painted crimson, eyes hooded and barely cognizant.

"Don't stop," Grell rasped. "Please?"

Undertaker chuckled, though it wasn't because he was happy about putting an end to their last kiss. Grell was just too adorable.

"You haven't fully recovered, Princess. It would be rude of me to harm you," he murmured as he ran his fingers through Grell's hair.

"Hurt me! I'll be fine," Grell demanded and sat up, pushing Undertaker away and waving a fist in his face. "Pain adds spice!"

Undertaker grinned widely. "Like pain, do you?"

"If it's for a good cause, and believe me, this is a very good cause," Grell exclaimed and licked his lips. "No one has ever kissed me like that and I doubt anyone ever will again!"

Undertaker studied the demanding reaper for a few moments and received a glare in return. If he hurt Grell, the reaper would be fine by morning, but it seemed a bit dishonorable to take advantage of the younger reaper while he was weak. He'd hoped to hold off until Grell had healed and spent some time away from him.

Undertaker sighed and rose. "I'll put some wood on the fire."

Grell huffed predictably.

Undertaker adjusted himself as he rose and went to the stack of wood beside the fireplace. He grabbed a couple of sticks and the fire poker. After stirring the coals, he slid new wood on top. His body didn't seem to want to calm, so then decided to add a couple more sticks. He poked at the coals until the new wood began to catch fire, which gave his body time to calm, though he still ached with the need to feel Grell in his arms.

When Undertaker rose and turned to Grell, he'd expected to see pouting. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised at what he found. Grell lay on his belly, his chin resting on his hands at the end of the bed, his feet swinging back and forth at the head of the bed, and he was stark naked.

"Strip, Sweetie," Grell ordered with a cheeky grin.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter Eight**_

_(**Warning:** LEMON)_

* * *

Undertaker blinked and shook his head.

"No? Guess I'll have to work a little harder at seducing you then," Grell said and sat up, his knees spread under him. He covered his groin by placing his arms between his legs, then turned his head to the side and blinked invitingly. Long locks of red hair slid over his shoulder and flowed down his chest, drawing Undertaker's attention to pale, pink nipples.

Undertaker smiled widely. "Do you have any idea just how cute you are?"

Grell grinned at that, then giggled. "Show me. Strip off those awful mourning robes and get nekkid!"

Undertaker sighed in defeat, but still smiled as he began taking off his black robes, laying them over a chair that sat by the fireplace. His shirt came off next, baring his chest and abdomen. He glanced at Grell to observe redhead's response. Undertaker's chest and arms sported scars, as did much of his body. Most of the jagged lines were from his battle with dispatch reapers to keep his death scythe. Nothing other than a death scythe could scar a reaper's body.

Grell's expression of pleased satisfaction changed, but in a good way. His eyes sparkled and his cheeks flushed. He wriggled impatiently as Undertaker worked at removing his own pants. Unlike his shirt, they were skin tight. Fortunately, the mortician didn't need to unbuckle each of the many straps on his leggings. They slid to the floor, leaving Undertaker's slender legs bare. Considering he wasn't wearing underpants, his bottom half was now just as _nekkid_, as his Princess had called it, as his chest and arms were.

Grell's eyes sparkled as fire light danced over Undertaker's battle-scarred skin. "The scars look like vines that are alive and moving. "So beautiful," Grell breathed as he reached out to Undertaker. "Why do you wear all those buckles and straps anyway?"

Undertaker smirked as he glided over to the foot of the bed.

"After the battle for my death scythe, I was on the run and couldn't afford to be laid up. Even with the stitching of the lacerations, if I were to walk, I would require very tight bandaging to hold my flesh together. The bandages helped support me in walking. By the time I was able to remove them, I'd become so accustomed to the sensation of the tight wrappings, that I decided to keep them." He shrugged. "So, I made it part of my wardrobe. I can cinch the straps tighter through the buckles when I choose. It's a purely hedonistic attachment to sensation. Though, should I ever need such support for wounds again, it is now built into my attire."

"I'm sorry to hear about all you had to go through, but...you must know that the trousers are very, very sexy, hm?" Grell said with a smirk. "Kind of...kinky even."

Undertaker hadn't really thought of his clothing in a sexual light. Grell certainly was different. Few had seen this much of Undertaker's flesh, especially since he'd gained the scars. It was good to know that they didn't discourage Grell.

"Do they ever hurt?" Grell asked with a sympathetic pout as he scooted forward and placed his entire hand on a scar that raked across Undertaker's chest.

"I can feel them pull sometimes. It is uncomfortable, but I wouldn't call it painful," Undertaker answered after he'd gotten over his surprise.

Yet again, Grell surprised Undertaker when he stood up on his knees and pressed his lips to the scar, then licked it, his hands resting on Undertaker's hips for balance. Undertaker shuddered as Grell's tongue traced the scar up over his left nipple. No one had ever paid homage to the medals he'd won in battle. To anyone else, the scars were imperfections. But to Undertaker, they were the proof of his superiority over all the other shinigami who'd attempted to strip him of his honor.

Content, and more than a little aroused, Undertaker threaded the fingers of his right hand through Grell's hair as the redhead moved down to suck the nipple into his mouth. A groan slipped past his lips when Grell nibbled at the sensitive flesh.

"You're such a sweetie, Princess," Undertaker murmured and wrapped his arms around Grell's shoulders.

"And you're the best sweet talker," Grell said in return and grinned up at him. "Now, be a good boy and come to bed."

Undertaker chuckled as Grell slid from his embrace. He watched, entranced, as Grell crawled to the head of the bed, his pert little ass high in the air. Charmed, fascinated, and bewitched, Undertaker was certain Grell had been trained as a snake charmer for shinigami. Or perhaps, Grell had been a witch in a previous life.

Undertaker shook his head to clear away his mental distraction and followed Grell, climbing over long, thin legs as the smaller reaper wiggled onto his back and stretched out. It immediately became noticeable that Grell was only partially erect, but Undertaker didn't want to start there with his seduction. No, he wanted to get to know the slender, pale form beneath him, especially considering Grell might not return after Undertaker sent him on his way the next morning.

Grell was grinning as Undertaker hovered over him. "How about another one of those kisses, hmm?"

With a smile of his own, the mortician obliged him. He'd planned on it anyway. This time, Grell wasn't nearly as demure or hesitant, instantly wrapping his arms and legs around Undertaker. Grell didn't wait for a gentle seduction, parting his lips and shoving his tongue past Undertaker's lips. It seemed Little Red was done waiting and Undertaker nearly chuckled when he was pulled down against cool, pale skin.

The kiss was long and fierce, eventually drawing blood. Not that Undertaker minded. Grell was deliciously writhing beneath him, the younger reaper's legs spreading wide as he bucked. Undertaker slid his own arms beneath Grell and grabbed a handful of red hair with his right hand. His left arm wrapped around Grell's back and ribs and he gently pulled Grell's hair until the reaper whined and released Undertaker's lips.

Undertaker licked his lips and stared down at Grell. He was gloriously mussed and panting, cheeks once again painted red.

"Slow down, Princess," Undertaker murmured, then slid down and latched onto Grell's right nipple, sucking it in between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue.

"Oh! Oh, my Death!" Grell exclaimed and bucked against Undertaker.

Undertaker chuckled. Yes, that's the name he'd once been called, though he doubted Grell was aware. He switched to the left nipple and drew his hand out of Grell's hair. As he teased the nipple to hardness, he brought his arms to Grell's sides for balance. Giving the nipple a finishing lick, Undertaker began kissing his way down Grell's abdomen. He loved the way Grell's muscles rippled in delightful shivers.

"Oh my, you have the most darling belly button," Undertaker complimented just before dipping his tongue into it.

Grell giggled, kicked his legs, and shoved at Undertaker's shoulders. "Tickles!"

Undertaker relented and set his eyes on the hard length lying against Grell's belly. "This is quite pretty as well, a pleasing shade of pink."

"I think you have a thing for pink!"

Grell giggled again, then gasped when Undertaker licked at the tip of his member, tasting the clear fluid that had been dripping and pooling against Grell's belly. Undertaker cleaned up the mess with his tongue, then sucked the head of Grell's shaft into his mouth and swirled his tongue over and around it. The flesh was hot in Undertaker's mouth. He took pleasure in the sensation as much as in the flavor.

"Oh! Ung!" Grell exclaimed, tugging wildly at the sheets and panting.

Undertaker took the time to savor tasting his partner, exploring the sleek texture of the skin, and breathing in his clean scent.

"You must-ung-really like the taste of my lollie," Grell said, then nearly choked because Undertaker had taken the liberty of squeezing his round dangly bits.

Undertaker took one long suck, swallowing Grell as deeply as he could. Ever so slowly, he released Grell as he sat back, grinning and licking his lips.

"I must say, it's an exceptionally beautiful and tasty lollie."

Grell covered his mouth and giggled. "I bet you say that to all the girls!"

"What other girls?" Undertaker asked. "I only see one girl, and she's the only Princess for me."

"Aw," Grell said, waving a hand and giving Undertaker a coy blink of eyelashes. "You say the sweetest things."

Undertaker enjoyed the playfulness, but he had more important things to do. He settled his face between Grell's legs once more, and went to work with his tongue while his right hand stroked Grell's member. It wasn't long before he had Grell moaning and lifting his hips while begging for more.

Undertaker regretted that his fingernails were so long, but he wouldn't cut them, not even to prepare Grell for penetration. His tongue was the only preparation his Princess was going to receive. So, he would work hard and do his best to make Grell beg for completion before he moved on to the finale.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter Nine**_

"Undertaker!" Grell whined and shoved the mortician's shoulder with his foot until Undertaker relented and rose from his place. "I'm tired of waiting. I want you _inside_ of me."

Undertaker smirked and gave Grell a smouldering gaze. Grell wasn't the only one feeling the pressing need to get hot and sweaty together. But first, Undertaker leaned down and sucked Grell's throbbing member into his mouth and down his throat. He held Grell's hips firmly to the mattress and tormented the redhead, at least until he felt painful yanking on his hair coupled with the sound of panting complaints.

"You're sexy as hell doing that, but get up here before you make me do something _you _regret," Grell threatened with one last, hard yank on Undertaker's hair.

Undertaker had no choice but to allow Grell's delicious length to slide from his mouth. "Well, if that's how you're going to be about it..." Undertaker said with a wicked grin then pounced, flipping Grell onto his belly and yanking his hips up into the air.

Undertaker chuckled when Grell squealed. The redhead propped himself up on his hands and looked over his shoulder. Grell's cheeks were rosy, his eyes hooded and clouded with lust.

"My, my. I do love a forceful man," Grell purred and wiggled his ass at Undertaker.

"You truly are too cute for words," Undertaker said with a chuckle and shook his head as he grabbed hold of Grell's hips. He frowned at the redhead. "This is going to hurt, Princess."

Grell grinned. "Spice of life, remember?"

Undertaker didn't want to see the pain in Grell's expression, so he reached forward and playfully shoved Grell's face into the pillow, causing the little reaper to giggle. He smiled, but it quickly disappeared when he turned his eyes to the delectable, pale ass held in his long fingers. He gently raked the long, black nails of his right hand down Grell's back to distract him from the coming pain and heard another giggle.

"Well, shit," Undertaker muttered. "Your impatience has left me unprepared."

"What now!?" Grell complained, his voice muffled in the pillow.

"You might not mind pain, but without lubricant, I'll be in pain as well, and I'm not _that_ fond of pain," Undertaker grumbled. "Don't move or I'll have to spank you." That should encourage Grell. Then again, maybe it would encourage him in the wrong direction. Oh well.

Undertaker jumped from the bed and streaked downstairs, grabbed a bottle of oil from the kitchen, then took the stairs in one bound on his way back. He shut the bedroom door behind him to keep the warm air in the room.

"Now, no complaints from you, Princess. I just froze off my arse for this," Undertaker said with a smirk as he hopped back onto the bed. "Be glad my own lollie hasn't wilted."

"Hehehehe," Grell giggled and made a zipping motion across his lips.

Undertaker didn't waste any time applying the oil to himself. He'd gotten a bit chilled and it had taken off the edge, unfortunately. It only took a moment to decide to apply some to Grell as well. He might like pain, but Undertaker was going to make his entry as smooth as possible. No need for bad memories of their first time.

"Ready, Princess?" Undertaker asked as he rubbed the length of his member up and down the slim valley of Grell's bottom.

"Uh huh," Grell said with a shudder, his face once again in the pillow.

Undertaker lined up the head of his shaft with Grell's entrance and ever so carefully pressed forward, backing off occasionally, until he felt Grell loosen a bit. Damn, Grell was tight and he was so worried about hurting his Princess. He glanced up and Grell's fingers were clenched into the pillow. Undertaker bit his bottom lip as his grip on Grell's hips tightened. He pressed forward with more force. Grell grunted, but Undertaker could feel the flesh beginning to give way for him, so he didn't relent.

"Nyah!" Grell cried out into the pillow as his flesh gave way, allowing Undertaker inside.

"Sorry," Undertaker said with a strained voice.

"Don't stop," Grell answered. "Do it all at once!"

Undertaker wasn't sure that was a good idea, but if Grell wanted it, he would give it to him quickly. With one quick thrust, Undertaker was completely sheathed in excruciatingly tight heat.

"Fuuuuck!" Undertaker groaned as Grell cried out at the same time.

Undertaker's entire body seemed to throb in time with his member as Grell clenched around his girth.

"Seems to me..." Grell panted and moaned. "The quicker you start moving, the quicker I'll get used to it. Right?"

"Seems so," Undertaker answered through gritted teeth. "But, I don't know how long I can last if you don't give me a chance to breathe."

Grell's laugh was weak, but it made his body _squeeze_ and Undertaker groaned under the pressure.

"Lovely, please, do try not to laugh again for a few moments," Undertaker requested and took a deep breath.

"Yes, Dear," Grell said in a patronizing voice, but he didn't laugh or giggle. "I guess I have no choice but to obey since you have me speared on that huge pole of yours."

This time, it was Undertaker who laughed. It took the edge off, slightly. As a reward for his gift, Undertaker withdrew almost completely, then thrust back inside that gripping heat.

"Oh, yeeesss," Grell hissed then moaned.

Good. At least his Princess seemed to be all right. Undertaker began a slow pace of gliding strokes, eventually bending over Grell and reaching around with his oily hand to take hold of Grell's member.

"Ah, hah, ung," Grell moaned, much to Undertaker's delight.

Undertaker wasn't sure what he enjoyed more, the friction and heat from thrusting in and out of Grell's body, or the cute little exclamations and moans coming out of Grell's mouth. Both excited him more than he had expected, causing him to worry that this would be over much too soon. His normally cool blood boiled in his veins, setting all of his nerve endings on fire. It enhanced his sense of smell and taste, and he reveled in it while he kissed and licked the delicious skin of Grell's back, neck and shoulders.

"Oh, oh, Death!" Grell exclaimed. "Not gonna last much longer!"

"In that case, dear..." Undertaker murmured and pulled out of Grell's body.

"What!? Nooooo!" Grell cried. "You can't sto..ah!"

Undertaker flipped Grell onto his back and shoved his legs apart. "What was that?" he asked and settled between Grell's legs, enjoying the new warmth.

Grell grinned and wrapped his arms around Undertaker. "Good, I get to see your face."

"My thoughts exactly," Undertaker agreed and took Grell's lips in a searing kiss as they both repositioned their hips, allowing Undertaker to retake his position inside of Grell's tight passage.

"Mmm," Undertaker moaned into Grell's mouth with the first hard thrust.

"Ng!" Grell squeaked and wrapped his legs around Undertaker's waist.

Undertaker chuckled. It earned him a muffled squawk that caused Grell's body to squeeze his shaft, setting off a chain reaction. Without his permission, his hips jerked, thrusting deep and hard. Grell's legs tightened around him and his own body went into an uncontrollable frenzy. Undertaker needed to end their kiss or risk having his lips shredded by Grell's sharp teeth, but that was okay. He was now able to observe his lovely partner throw his head back and thrash around, crying out almost continuously.

The fire burning inside of Undertaker was so hot that he almost couldn't keep his eyes open to watch Grell, but he had to, had to no matter what. He wanted to see the first time that radiant visage twisted in the ultimate pleasure. Their first time together should be solidly committed to memory.

Grell was a real firecracker, so expressive. Undertaker loved watching him, manipulating his body. He flung his legs down and arched his back, his body stiffening. His eyes were wide and mouth open in a silent scream when the first throw of ecstasy ripped through him. His entire body jerked, hard. Undertaker had a flash of worry that Grell had hurt himself.

Despite the intense sensation of Grell clamping down around Undertaker's rigid length, Undertaker felt the wet warmth of Grell's seed splashing onto his abdomen. It was at that moment that the mortician's body stiffened, his own seed racing through his member to shoot out into the tight passage that continued to rhythmically clamp down around him. He couldn't watch Grell anymore because his eyes involuntarily rolled back into his head as his orgasm washed over him in great shocking waves, almost painful in its great pleasure.

As Undertaker gradually gained control of his shuddering body, he slumped down, but managed to hold some of his weight on his elbows. Grell was still panting and was no better off, shivering and twitching. Undertaker only wished that he had taken longer to savor Grell, but they still had the rest of the night.

"Relax, Sweetie," Grell murmured and tugged at Undertaker's shoulders.

Undertaker slid down and rested against Grell, his face pressed into the soft skin of Grell's neck. He smiled when Grell's arms slid around him. Ah, this was nice. He could definitely get used to it.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter Ten**_

The contents of the beaker glowed green, but the taste was palatable. Undertaker set it aside and examined his patient, lifting the sterile cloth from the stitches in Grell's abdomen. He nodded when he saw the redness and swelling of the surrounding skin diminishing. He removed the cloth from Grell's mouth, but left the blindfold over his taped eyelids.

For ease of carrying, Undertaker tightly bound Grell in a sheet. As he had the first time, Undertaker carried Grell up the stairs. It had been weeks since they'd first been together, but he'd finally perfected a serum for infecting Grell with offspring and added his own essence to the mix. Now all they had to do was wait while Grell took the medicine he'd developed.

In between his mortician work and Grell's reaper duties, they'd had precious little time together, but they took what they could get. Regardless, Grell's smiles always brightened his mood. There was still the worry concerning Grell's job, but they had decided to broach that subject when they knew the pregnancy had taken. Grell planned to demand maternity leave, rather than retiring completely. He seemed to believe the shock from a male reaper pregnancy would get him almost anything he asked for, and might even get him a dismissal.

They could hope. If things didn't go their way, Grell could always join Undertaker in hiding. However, if that happened, Undertaker had a whole bunch of dollies he planned to release on mankind as punishment for the shinigami dispatch. He giggled thinking about it as he laid his Princess onto the bed and unwound the sheet. He removed the blindfold and peeled the tape from Grell's eyes, careful not to dislodge the false eyelashes his lady favored and had so painstakingly applied.

It would be an hour or so before Grell became coherent and Undertaker wanted the room nice and toasty for his Princess. He stoked the fire and added a couple of logs. Spring would be on them soon, though, and they could forgo the heat.

At Grell's insistence, the bedroom had been cleaned top to bottom and made cozy with cushioned chairs, rugs and pillows. There was also a small cradle sitting in the corner. When the young reaper had found out that Undertaker would in some way be the father of his child, he had insisted on Undertaker helping him build a cradle. Of course Grell had outright rejected Undertaker's first design as it had been in the shape of a coffin, so Undertaker had allowed Grell to design the next one and he'd built it. It rested under the window, all cherry stained wood. Varnished and gleaming, it was a proper cradle.

Of all things, Grell had begun learning to knit so that his baby would be nice and warm. He'd refused the gowns Undertaker kept on hand for children's corpses. Already, Undertaker could see that he would need to accept the queen's coin for some of his work from now on.

If Grell wouldn't change the child's diapers and wash them, Undertaker would hire a nanny. They might even need a wet nurse. Undertaker couldn't be certain what the infant would require for nutrition. He would provide whatever they needed. He would do anything for Grell.

Undertaker's problem was simple. He needed to work in order to support his new family and a child was going to be expensive. He hated working for coin, but it was worth it for Grell and a child. It was an excellent trade off. Instead of charging jokes from his customers as payment, Grell would be there to make him smile.

Undertaker only hoped the pregnancy took. Grell had been so happy and excited at the prospect of becoming a new mother that Undertaker couldn't imagine disappointing his Princess. He would need to make certain he logged every little detail of this experiment. He settled into the rocker they'd purchased, picked up his experiment log and began writing as he waited for Grell to awaken.

Less than an hour later, Grell opened his groggy eyes, blinked and shifted. "Ung."

Undertaker set his book aside and hurried to the redhead's side. "Hello there, Princess," he murmured and bent down to press a kiss to Grell's forehead. Grell was smiling when Undertaker pulled away.

"How'd it go?" Grell asked in a raspy voice.

"The surgery went very well," Undertaker replied. "As soon as you're able, I need you to drink something for me. Perhaps in half an hour."

"Kay," Grell said, his voice sounding scratchy and tired.

"Rest. I'll go get your drink," Undertaker said and brushed his fingers over Grell's forehead until Grell's eyes closed.

Grell nodded, so Undertaker left and retrieved the green concoction from his lab, not bothering to put it in a container other than the beaker. Grell had taken some the night before the surgery, but Undertaker wanted to make certain that his body was a receptive host to its new component. It would make the redhead weak for a day or so, but that's why Grell had managed to gain two days off from work. He'd be bedridden in the interim.

Undertaker sat the drink on the table beside the bed and sat down on the mattress. "How do you feel?"

"Sleepy," Grell said, his eyes still closed.

"Any pain?" Undertaker asked.

"Not yet, though I'm sure that'll change," Grell replied, but smiled anyway, opening his eyes.

"I'll try to make sure that doesn't happen. We'll keep the stitches moist and sterile until I can take them out, probably tomorrow."

"Why so long?" Grell asked and took the beaker of liquid Undertaker handed to him.

"The medicine has weakened your system and it will take longer to heal. Also, if the pregnancy takes, your strength will be sapped by the little parasite," Undertaker replied with a smile as he watched Grell drink the medicine.

Grell glared angrily at the mortician. "Don't call our baby a parasite!"

Undertaker chuckled. "Well, that's exactly what it is going to be before it is born. It will suck nutrients from your body, causing you to heal more slowly, which is why I still say you shouldn't go back to work."

"Told you I'd be careful," Grell mumbled. "Besides, no one will believe me until they can see proof."

"That's why you go to one of your physicians as soon as you return," Undertaker said.

"But...I'm scared. What if...what if they want to kill our baby?" Grell asked, his fear showing clearly in his eyes.

Undertaker gave Grell a reassuring smile. "How could they? I doubt it was added to a birth list, so how could it be on a death list? And they don't know how it was conceived, so they have no authority to harm it, or you."

"I'm still scared," Grell muttered.

"Shhh," Undertaker soothed, then leaned down and kissed Grell on the tip of his nose.

Undertaker wanted to reassure Grell, but wasn't sure how, short of returning with him. His presence was tolerated by some at London dispatch, but not by all. Most didn't even know who he was. Well, if he wanted to risk it all, Undertaker supposed this was the perfect time to do it. It would lay down in stone the path he and Grell would travel.

"Would it help if I went with you?" Undertaker asked.

Grell nodded and looked up at Undertaker, biting his lip. "I would feel safer."

Undertaker grinned, pleased that his presence reassured his lover. "All right. I'll go with you when you return."

Grell's face lit up with a grateful smile. "Who knows, maybe we won't have to hide from anyone!"

"It's a possibility," Undertaker said encouragingly, but inside, he was highly doubtful.

They would find out soon enough.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11**_

It had only been a few hours, but as Undertaker leaned over Grell's naked belly and opened his reaper senses, there was definitely something different. He gently ran his hand over the area as though it would help him _see_. Oh, right. He'd forgotten his magnifying glass.

"Well?" Grell asked anxiously.

"Ah, I need my magnifier, but I do sense something," Undertaker replied. "I'll be right back."

Grell huffed. "Absentminded old man."

Undertaker chuckled and very nearly ran to his lab, quickly retrieving the glass tool, then hurried back upstairs. He had to admit that he was excited. His experiment might be a success!

"Took you long enough," Grell growled impatiently.

"Patience, Princess," Undertaker said and quickly leaned over the redhead again, first noticing the skin around Grell's stitches, which was healing faster than he'd expected.

That's when he saw it, just a spark, but it was there. And it was odd. It looked like a tiny bursting diamond, full of colors of every hue, fluctuating, but strong. Undertaker grinned and tore his eyes away from the sight to grin at Grell.

"Congratulations, Lovely! You are well and truly preggers!" Undertaker informed Grell.

"Aaaah!" Grell screamed and raised his arms, waving his hands to express his desire for a celebratory hug.

Undertaker leaned down and the two embraced.

"I can't believe it! We did it, we did it!" Grell squealed excitedly.

"That, we did," Undertaker replied with a chuckle, still grinning widely. Now the next worry was the form the child would take once he retrieved it from Grell's body.

He gave Grell a quick squeeze. "Let go of me, Lovely. I need to cover you so you can keep warm. We don't know what the little nipper would say about exposure to cold."

"Oh, oh! You're so right," Grell replied and released Undertaker. "I'm so thrilled, I could dance! Do you think it will be a boy or girl?"

Undertaker smiled as he adjusted the blankets. "I don't know. It may be neither."

Grell glared at him. "Don't say such things. Of course our baby is a girl or a boy."

"Well, Love, look at you," Undertaker said. "You are almost both."

Grell's eyebrows crinkled into a cute frown. "I hope not. It's a hard life to want to be a wife and mother when one's body is male."

"Too true, my love. Whatever it is though, we'll support our child and do what we can to give it a happy life."

"I hate it when you call our baby an 'it'," Grell said with a pout.

"I'll try to be more careful with my words," Undertaker assured him.

When Grell's stomach growled, Undertaker raised a brow. "Seems the little one is already hungry." Undertaker smiled when Grell gave him a pleased smile. "I'll fix some dinner."

"Thanks...daddy," Grell replied with a coy smile.

Undertaker's brows shot up. He hadn't thought of himself in those terms. A father, huh? That was going to take some mental adjustment.

"I'll be off now," Undertaker said and gave Grell a quick peck on the lips before leaving.

While he puttered around the kitchen, Undertaker tried to reconcile himself to this new life, and to the fact he might have to fight for it in less than two days. Oh, but was it worth it! A wife and child? Well, they weren't properly married yet. That would be fixed very soon. Oh my, he would need a ring for his bride. Crap. Why hadn't he thought of that before? Weddings and dresses, churches and priests. What a pain. But...Grell and the child were worth it.

Life could be so strange. One day he's making weapons of dead flesh, the next he's creating a life and getting tied down. He had to wonder how long this dream would last. Ah well, there was a time and season for everything, though he'd never experienced anything like this and had never even imagined to dream it.

Undertaker was almost afraid to make plans further than two days out, hesitant to be happy about the situation. Anything could happen to pull the rug out from under him, and this new world he was building could come crashing down. It was worries such as these that made him understand why some chose to always remain detached. Still, compared to the loneliness of his millenia, this was...nice.

Yes, he would fight for it if he had to, and take down as many shinigami as he could should he and Grell get trapped at Dispatch. He also had quite an army of his bizarre dolls set to be released on London if he didn't make contact with the holder within five days. If things went well, he'd have to destroy the dolls or risk the fate of his new family, which was something he wouldn't do.

He was only going along with Grell to try and head off a hunt. It might be possible to bargain with Dispatch. A small chance, but he'd take it. Only for Grell though.

Undertaker sighed as he picked up the tray of food he'd prepared. "Lunacy," he muttered to himself. "Perhaps I'm ill."

Undertaker giggled and shook his head. Better to be a lunatic and enjoy the delights of one redheaded shinigami than be sane and grumpy like all those other fools. He practically skipped up the stairs to the bedroom.

"Princess! Dinner is served!" Undertaker sang as he danced into the room where Grell had propped himself up on pillows.

Grell was all smiles and dreamy eyes. "My Silver Knight has returned!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands together and puckering his lips for a kiss once Undertaker had set the tray over his lap.

"That's right," Undertaker said and pressed his lips to Grell's. "I'll always return to you, Princess."

Undertaker bowed and crossed an arm over his chest, as though he was giving an oath.

Grell squealed and clapped his hands together. "I'm impressed. Won't you bring a brush next time you return?" he asked and fluttered his eyelashes.

"As My Lady wishes," Undertaker said with another bow and a wide grin.

"You always take such good care of me," Grell said softly, his eyes warm and grateful.

Right then and there, as he watched Grell's radiant smile, Undertaker decided he would see to it that this play never ended. He'd seen how human marriages became stale. He wouldn't allow that to happen here. Grell's happiness was far too important. It was a fire by which to warm his hopelessly chilled soul. The ages-old reaper was certain his soul would shrivel and die if Grell's light should disappear from his life now.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12**_

Undertaker waited anxiously as Grell twirled and danced down the stairs. Did his butterfly not understand that he was pregnant and a fall could cause him to lose the child? Undertaker knew better than to chastise him though. So, he held himself still, lazily slumped forward in his large hat and mourning robes, ready to catch his Princess if necessary.

"I'm so happy! I just know everything will be fine because you're with me," Grell said with excitement as he bounded from the last step and threw his arms around Undertaker. "Do you have to wear those awful old robes?"

"The fewer who recognize me at Dispatch, the better," Undertaker replied with small smile. "Some don't mind me too much, but others have an ax to grind. After all, I put up quite the fight to keep my death scythe."

Saying that, Undertaker held his arm out to his side and materialized his scythe, well away from his precious Princess. Light glinted off the shining blade and Undertaker stared fondly at the small skeleton that made up part of the long handle. The scythe was special to him in ways that a scythe couldn't be to other reapers. At least, he believed so. His was the only scythe he knew of that included a human skeleton, and the dead seemed to speak to him when he held it in his hands.

"Stop admiring your _weapon _and let's go," Grell teased and tapped Undertaker on the nose.

Undertaker snapped his teeth at Grell's finger and they both grinned. A thought popped into his head and Undertaker blinked in shock. No, he was no longer capable of that particular emotion. Too jaded and cynical for..._love_.

"What's wrong?" Grell asked, frowning in concern. "You look like you swallowed a frog."

"No...just a cricket..." Undertaker mumbled, a bit off-center from the realization that he was much more attached to Grell than he'd expected.

"Well, crickets are good luck, so stop looking so green around the gills!" Grell said and smiled, but it quickly melted from his face. "Are...are you having second thoughts about going with me?"

"No! Not at all, Princess," Undertaker said, shaking his head. He firmly patted his hat to make sure it was in place then offered his arm to Grell. "Shall we leave then?"

Grell gave Undertaker a relieved smile as he stepped close and wrapped both arms around the mortician's arm.

Undertaker spun his scythe, imbuing it with the power to open a portal to the great library, a safe enough place to begin, considering no one would want to start a fight in the very place all cinematic records were stored. It had been such a long time since Undertaker had been anywhere other than the great library, he doubted he could navigate the city. With the growth of the library, the city had to be quite large by now.

When they walked through the portal, no one was nearby in the area they had appeared. Undertaker sighed in relief. The fewer people they ran into the better. Walls stretched up as high as one could see, all lined with the books containing cinematic records. Each floor had an open balcony along the walls of shelves. Tall, stained glass windows along one wall provided bright lighting.

Every time Undertaker set foot in here, he was tempted to burn the place to the ground and set the records free, just to see what would happen. However, even he wasn't crazy enough to cause that kind of chaos on so many different planes of existence. He shoved the thought back down into the dark place that had torn him away from his calling.

"Well, Princess, lead the way," Undertaker said with a smile at Grell as he banished his scythe.

Grell returned Undertaker's smile with an excited grin, grabbed his hand and bounded toward the large doorway along the wall.

"I wonder if I should tell Will why I'm late today," Grell mumbled as they opened a magnificent set of doors into a hall where they would take an elevator to the ground floor.

"Why bother. Get your note from the doctor first, I say," Undertaker replied.

"Yeah, that sounds better. I just hope he doesn't catch me before I get there!" Grell said and giggled. "I bet he's griping about all the overtime I'm already causing him."

Undertaker didn't care for the boxed in feeling of these newfangled elevator contraptions, but Grell seemed accustomed to it and hummed as the numbers counted down the floors. A nice comfy coffin was one thing, but a swinging steel trap was quite another.

"You could have taken us to the ground floor, you know," Grell said.

"Well, I happen to like the other floor," Undertaker said with a soothing smile.

"Why?" Grell asked, obviously curious.

"It's quiet, for one thing. Also, most of the records I collected have been moved to that floor. I like to visit old friends from time to time," Undertaker replied, reminiscing.

"Ah, so that's what you do when you go there. I was just wondering," Grell replied.

"Well, sometimes I get a corpse that hasn't had their records reaped and I must bring them to the library. It's not often, but with the crime rates going up in London, I've been here more than I'd like," Undertaker said, wrinkling his nose.

"So, you still do your job, even though you're a deserter, huh?" Grell asked with a sly grin.

Undertaker thought about that. He didn't have to reap records, but he always did it without much thought. He shrugged.

"Old habits die hard, I guess?"

"You're just an old softie," Grell said with a smile just before the elevator doors opened. "You still care about humans."

"I'm just particular about which ones." Undertaker smirked and followed Grell from the elevator.

"We'll need to take a tram from here." Grell grabbed Undertaker's hand and pulled him along.

Undertaker was impressed with this faster train. It didn't belch black smoke and the ride was quite smooth. The seats were exceptionally comfy and the speed of the tram was astonishing.

They took a cab after that. The tall building Grell led him to was several stories high and Undertaker noted the location, so they could simply port there if more visits were necessary. Currently, he didn't want Grell unnecessarily expending any energy. It could be dangerous for the baby.

When the glass doors to the building opened, cool air whooshed into Undertaker's face, but he wrinkled his nose at the sterile smell. Grell led him to a counter that had several workers behind it. When they approached, a young male looked up and smiled. He was clean cut, shaven, his hair a dull light brown, but his eyes were definitely two-toned shinigami.

"How may I help you today?"

"Hello! My name is Grell Sutcliffe and I made an appointment for this morning with Dr. Wright," Grell said, clasping his hands together on the counter. Undertaker watched as Grell crossed his legs and wriggled his cute little ass back and forth.

"It's a good thing you didn't make the appointment with doctor wrong," the man said and chuckled at his own joke.

Undertaker rolled his eyes and decided to occupy himself observing his partner.

"Aren't you the funny one!" Grell replied to the man and flapped a hand while giggling.

"Why, thank you! Here we are! Seventh floor, room 712. Take the elevators down this hall, on the right," he instructed.

"Thanks so much! You were such a great help. Tata!" Grell said with a wave and turned, grabbing Undertaker's hand as he headed for the elevators.

"Hm, Dr. Wright?" Undertaker commented.

"Yeah, heard the name before?" Grell asked.

"Maybe..." Undertaker replied. This might get interesting.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13**_

"Dr. Wright handles Dispatch field agents. I didn't think it would be wise to go outside of Dispatch because my superiors would probably get their knickers in a bunch," Grell huffed. "And the shinigami plane doesn't exactly have any obstetricians. I'm just worried about his reaction."

"Exactly what is it that makes you worry?" Undertaker asked and wrapped an arm around Grell's waist as they got on the elevator.

Grell snuggled into Undertaker's side. "Well, no shinigami has ever been pregnant, right? Add to that, a male. They might want to lock me up as some prize and do experiments or something."

"I wouldn't allow that to happen," Undertaker replied and squeezed Grell.

"Promise?" Grell asked and stared up at him with beseeching eyes.

"Cross my heart and over my dead body," Undertaker replied with a warm smile.

Grell snickered. "It doesn't go like that!"

"All the same, that's how it is." Undertaker grinned. "No one is taking you away from me. I'm quite possessive, you know?"

"Good! I like a man who knows what he wants!"

Undertaker was relieved that Grell had perked up. Though, facing the shinigami headquarters was going to be even more difficult than the doctor. He could only hope Grell, in his fragile state, could handle it.

The elevator doors opened and the two disengaged from each other. Arrows on the wall across from the elevator pointed them in the correct direction down a massive hallway and they were soon walking through another door into the doctor's private waiting room. As resilient as shinigami were, there was no one in the room. Undertaker wondered if the most this doctor saw on a daily basis were papercuts.

Undertaker hung back while Grell went to the window and collected forms to fill out. Paperwork. Is that all these people ever did? It was paperwork or collecting records. Undertaker sighed, pulled a cookie out of his pocket and started nibbling while Grell filled out the forms and turned them in. This place brought about so many unwanted memories.

"Hey, Sweetie, after we're done, there's a local cafe that I'd love to take you to. They have great lunch specials. My treat!" Grell said excitedly, but in a low voice, much to Undertaker's surprise.

Undertaker swallowed his bite of cookie and grinned. "Sounds good. I'll lay off the cookies til then."

A door opened and a woman dressed in a nurses uniform walked into the waiting room, carrying a clipboard.

"Mr. Grell Sutcliffe, the doctor will see you now."

She had a pleasant lilting voice that went well with her tiny frame. With her small stature and rounded cheeks, children would like her. Too bad Dispatch didn't like sending women out into the field. Young children would happily give this woman their records, if she approached them with care.

Undertaker took his eyes from the nurse and stood to follow Grell. She led them down a narrow hall with numerous doors, then shuffled them into a small room. Inside, a white counter with sink lined the wall to the left of the door. A stool sat under the counter. Undertaker supposed the doctor sat there when recording his findings because the only other furniture was an examination table to the far left and a chair next to the window on the opposite wall.

Grell hopped up onto the table and motioned Undertaker into the small chair. The nurse made small talk as she took Grell's vitals. In the meantime, Undertaker wondered if she could sense the life growing inside of Grell. Probably not. At this early stage, only the most sensitive shinigami would be able to perceive the new life inside of Grell. If this Dr. Wright was the one he knew, he was certain to sense it with only minimal investigation.

"All right, Dr. Wright will be in to see you in just a few moments," nurse Susan said then whisked out the door with a smile.

Grell let a whoosh of air out of his lungs. "I'm so nervous!"

"Please try to calm yourself, Princess. It isn't good for the baby," Undertaker replied.

"I know, I know! But, I just can't help it!"

"I promise, I'll protect you. There's nothing to worry about," Undertaker tried to assure Grell. He stood up and stepped around to the table, his steps shuffling, having taken up his usual pretense of the old mortician again. When he spoke again, he murmured softly against Grells ear. "When we're finished here, we'll have a nice lunch, maybe a walk in the park. Then, I'll be with you when you go to headquarters and I won't let anyone touch you. After that, we can go anywhere you like."

"Can we...go back to your shop?" Grell asked. "I'd feel safer there."

A wide grin stretched Undertaker's face, showing perfect white teeth. "Of course, Princess. Today is going to be rough. I'll heat some water and you can have a nice bath, but not too hot. Don't want to cook the little munchkin."

Grell smiled at that then started wiggling excitedly. "Ooh, we could stop at my apartment and grab some things! I have bath oils that smell so nice and they leave my skin soft as a rose petal!"

"That sounds lovely, Princess," Undertaker said and nodded. "You could pick up some clothes and spend some time with me. I don't intend to allow you to go back to work any time soon and I'm certain Dr. Wright will agree."

"Agree with what?" a deep male voice asked as the door opened. "Death!?"

"Dr. Wright," Undertaker greeted mildly and tipped his hat.

The man's eyes widened. His salt and pepper hair was trimmed short and neatly combed into place. Large glasses sat on a slightly wide nose. He was short, stocky, and a little rounded in the middle.

"I'll be damned! It's been ages, thought I'd never see you again," Dr. Wright greeted with a wide grin. "You old fool. I'd ask what you've been up to, but it seems you've brought me a patient."

Dr. Wright held a hand out to Grell. "A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Sutcliffe, especially since it isn't a checkup after a trip to emergency care."

Grell chuckled and shook the man's hand. "I've been a good boy, lately."

"Then tell me why you're here?" the doctor asked, his attention completely on his patient.

Undertaker was pleased that the doctor ignored him in favor of tending to Grell.

Grell blushed and glanced at Undertaker then started removing his shirt and vest. "Well...why don't you have a look? It would be easier than explaining."

"If you say so," the doctor said and waited patiently until Grell had finished and laid back on the table, pointing at his abdomen.

The doctor switched on a light over the table and leaned over, closely inspecting the area. "There are faint traces of stitches."

"Uh huh," Grell replied as the doctor pulled the arm of the light down closer.

Undertaker was grinning like a madman, waiting for the doctor to figure it out. The doctor frowned and bent down so close that his nose nearly touched Grell's skin. When his eyebrows rose, Undertaker started snickering. In his efforts to keep himself in check, a line of drool leaked over his bottom lip.

"How...how did this happen?" the doctor asked as he stood up and stared in wide-eyed wonder at Grell.

Grell pointed at Undertaker. "He's the daddy."

The doctor turned his gaze to Undertaker. "How did you do this?"

"Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that," Undertaker replied, still grinning like a madman, then added smugly, "But, I _am_ the daddy."

The doctor practically fell back down onto his stool. "I don't understand how this could happen. Shinigami can't reproduce! And, Grell isn't even female!"

Dr. Wright pressed a hand to his forehead then dropped it and shook his head. He looked back up at Undertaker. "How long?"

"Two days," Undertaker replied.

"Two days? And it's already that strong?"

"I do good work," Undertaker said with a chuckle.

"You, Sir, are a mad scientist with no sense of propriety," the doctor huffed and tried to scowl, but ended up smiling anyway. "Have you two decided what you're going to do about this? You know it is going to cause the biggest stir we've seen since...since you deserted, you crazy old coot!"

"That's where you come in, old man," Undertaker replied and took one of Grell's hands in his. "My Princess needs a doctor's note excusing him with maternity leave for the duration of the pregnancy. In essence, someone must to go to bat against Dispatch for us. And, we need a steady doctor that won't mistreat my lovely Princess."

Grell put on his shirt as the doctor scratched his temple and thought. "Well, there's no way I'd allow him out in the field at this point, and considering his unheard of condition, I'd want him to avoid any strenuous activity, get plenty of rest, no stress, plenty of food, supplements..."

"Dr. Wright, just put it in writing, an official notice for Dispatch. I'll take care of my Princess," Undertaker said, interrupting the doctor. "In fact, if you could go to Dispatch for us, it would help Grell to avoid unnecessary stress from the fear of repercussions."

The doctor shook his head. "I can't do that for you, but I can go with you. It would be an honor."

"Oh, I'll have an Honor Guard along with my Silver Knight!" Grell said with a nervous chuckle.

"This is going to cause a stir and I'd rather be present as your physician," Dr. Wright said gravely. "Otherwise, there could be problems. I don't want anyone trying to use you as a study specimen. This is to precious to endanger."

Grell nodded, the smiles disappearing from both his and Undertaker's faces. "That's what I was worried about."

"Well, some of those guys have sticks so far up their asses, it's a wonder their heads are still attached!" the doctor huffed. "I won't allow them to torment any patient of mine."

Grell smiled at Undertaker and gave him a thumbs up.

"We appreciate your support. We had planned to go to Dispatch after lunch," Undertaker informed Dr. Wright.

"Good, that'll give me time to clear my schedule. Why don't I meet you at the front of the building at one o'clock?" Dr. Wright offered.

"Sounds good to me," Grell agreed and Undertaker nodded.

"All right then. I want to see you first thing every morning for the next two weeks, then we'll move it out to once a week if everything is going well," Dr. Wright said sternly to Grell.

"Yes, Sir," Grell replied.

"I'll take good care of him and make sure he comes to all of his appointments," Undertaker replied as well.

"Good. Be careful and I'll see you at one," Dr. Wright said as he rose and held out his hand to Undertaker. "It was good to see you again, Death. I look forward to seeing you more often."

Undertaker shook the offered hand and nodded. "You'll be seeing me at one o'clock."

The doctor chuckled then waved at them both as he hurried out the door.

Undertaker sighed, understanding the doctor's excitement and enthusiasm, but unhappy that Grell would now have so much unwanted attention.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14**_

One o'clock. Undertaker checked his pocket watch again as he and Grell waited at the bottom of the steps to the intimidating building of Dispatch. Where was that doctor? Undertaker squinted and gazed up at the gleaming structure, all reflective windows and glass doors on the outside. My, my, but the technology of the future sure had come a long way. It was all very fascinating, but Undertaker still preferred the London of the earthly plane.

During lunch, Grell had asked why the good doctor had referred to Undertaker specifically as 'Death'. It wasn't unusual for reapers to use that term in referring to the eternal or as a swear word or exclamation, but to actually call someone 'Death' by name was another matter entirely. Undertaker had explained that just as his current name and title were the same, so had it been when he had worked for the organization. He had been originally made Death.

That answer had impressed his Princess to no end. If he hadn't been before, now Grell seemed completely enamored with Undertaker. The resulting cat-like snuggles felt good, a breath of life to Undertaker's shriveled old heart.

"There he is!" Grell exclaimed.

Undertaker turned to see Grell waving frantically at the doctor, who was walking so briskly that he was nearly running, his long brown coat, flapping out behind him. Dr. Wright carried a briefcase in one hand and manilla envelopes in the other. By the time he reached the pair, he was panting and perspiration was beginning to dot his brow.

"Sorry for being late," he said through panting breaths. He set his briefcase on the concrete and handed one envelope to Grell and one to Undertaker. "These are your scheduled appointments for the next month, along with instructions for daily care. I have the letter to Dispatch, demanding a leave of absence for my patient. You need to be present, but let me take care of them."

When Undertaker saw the tension in Grell's shoulders relax, he felt a sudden gratefulness to Dr. Wright. He hadn't expected the old man to take a personal interest in Grell's safety. To Undertaker's relief, they now had a reliable ally who carried some clout with Dispatch.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Wright!" Grell said cheerfully. "You don't know how much I appreciate this."

"I, too, am grateful for your assistance, Greg," Undertaker said, finally calling the doctor by his first name.

Dr. Wright gave Undertaker a friendly smile then turned to Grell. "I don't like the idea of you dealing with any more stress than necessary. Your condition is too delicate. Now! Let's get this show on the road so you can get some rest!"

Grell grinned, showing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth. "I'm starting to like you more and more all the time, Doc!"

The doctor winked, earning himself a slap on the back of the head from Undertaker. "No flirting with my little missus, Greg."

Dr. Wright chuckled and started up the steps, Grell and Undertaker trailing behind. "No harm meant, old fellow."

As they ascended the steps and made their way to the head of Dispatch, the three didn't draw too much attention, but Undertaker's mourning robes did catch an eye here and there.

"I still think we should see Will first. I feel bad going over his head," Grell said as they hurried toward the elevator.

"Yo! Sutcliff!" Eric Slingby's tall, slender form trotted down an adjacent hall, his scruffy blond hair flying out around his head, except for the side that was braided. "Spears is pissed, man!"

"I'm sorry, and you are?" Dr. Wright asked, stepping protectively in front of Grell.

Slingby gave the man dressed in the suit a confused glance, then leaned to the side stared back at Grell, completely ignoring the doctor.

"You're late as fuck and Spears is taking it out on everyone else, threatening us all with two weeks of overtime. You'd better go calm him down before everyone gets the pitchforks after you."

Undertaker wanted to tell the young reaper where Spears could shove his attitude, but he allowed the doctor to handle it, instead putting a reassuring hand on Grell's lower back.

"I'm Dr. Wright and Mr. Sutcliffe is a patient currently under my supervision. He won't be back to work for some time. Mr. Spears will be notified by his department head by the end of the day," Dr. Wright said with more authority than Undertaker had ever heard him speak.

Undertaker hoped this whole situation wasn't going to Greg's head.

Slingby's eyes widened, then turned worried. "You all right, Sutcliffe?"

"I'm fine, Eric," Grell said. "Just in a rather...delicate situation, right now, but I'll be fine. No reason to worry."

"You sure?" Slingby pressed, glancing at the doctor.

"He'll be fine, lad. He's just in no condition to work and won't be for awhile," Dr. Wright said, reassuringly.

"Okay..." Slingby looked back up at Grell, still concerned. "If you need anything, you know, or...whatever, you've got my number."

"Sure," Grell replied with an emphatic nod.

Slingby gave him the death sign as the group got on the elevator and the doors closed. Grell let out a loud whoosh of air.

"Poor, Eric. His partner, Alan Humphries, has 'The Thorns of Death'," Grell said mournfully. "Alan is such a young man and Eric...I think he loves Alan."

Dr. Wright nodded. "I know of his case. We're trying to find a cure, but it isn't looking good."

Undertaker listened, curious about anything scientific. "The Thorns of Death, eh? Hm..."

"You know, I've always thought you'd make a great doctor," Dr. Wright said. "Want to join the team researching the disease?"

"Ah, I think my schedule is going to be quite hectic for awhile," Undertaker replied, grinning down at Grell.

"I could always send you materials and just use you as a consultant," Dr. Wright offered.

"Well, it's something to consider. I'll think about it," Undertaker replied, though he had no plans of doing anything that would take his time away from Grell anymore than his job as a mortician already would.

Dr. Wright nodded. "We'll get Mr. Sutcliffe lined out and then maybe we can talk about it again."

"Please call me 'Grell', Dr. Wright," Grell requested.

"Well, that's a bit informal for a patient."

"I insist. It seems you're already friends with the daddy, so it wouldn't be inappropriate."

"All right then...Grell," the doctor said as the elevator doors opened to the top floor where the head officers of London Dispatch were located.

Undertaker mentally sighed. He might be coming out of his coffin, so to speak, but the officers would probably see him as an asset and attempt to have him repent and come back into their ranks. Over his dead body would he take up the mantle of reaper again. He could only hope they cooperated.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	15. Chapter 15

_**Chapter 15**_

When the elevators opened, Undertaker was presented with a large, U-shaped reception desk, its dark wood stain contrasting sharply with the gray carpet and white walls. The adjacent halls, one to the left and the other stretching back beyond the desk, were empty and quiet. A prim woman sat at the desk, silently watching the trio as they exited the elevator.

Dr. Wright motioned for Undertaker and Grell to take a seat in the small waiting area off to the right. It was a cozy corner with plump chairs, two tall potted plants, a table stacked with reading material, and a large window that looked out over the city.

Undertaker grinned as Grell sat down and primly crossed his legs, wiggling his bottom to settle into one of the beige colored chairs. Rather than take a seat, Undertaker decided to stand next to Grell. He wasn't paranoid, but that didn't mean the people in this building could be trusted. Better to be safe than minus one lovely red-head.

"Sit down, Sweetie," Grell said, tugging on a long black sleeve.

"No, Princess, not here," Undertaker said as he watched Dr. Wright speak with the receptionist.

"O-Okay," Grell replied unhappily and began chewing on a fingernail.

"You'll ruin your lovely ruby nail polish, Love," Undertaker commented when he glanced down to check on why Grell had gone quiet.

"It's your fault," Grell huffed.

Undertaker sighed and sat down to Grell's right, taking Grell's hand in his and squeezing it. Contributing to Grell's tension hadn't been his intention.

"Everything _will_ be fine. I just want to make sure of that," Undertaker said quietly, his tone soothing as he lost the personality of the notorious mortician.

Dr. Wright left the desk and strolled toward the pair. He nodded before taking a chair. "I'll see Director Lightner first and we'll go from there. I suspect he'll call a meeting of all department heads."

Undertaker nodded as Grell shifted uncomfortably.

"Wish this was as easy as reaping," Grell muttered.

"I know it sounds cliche, but nothing worth fighting for is ever easy," Dr. Wright responded. "However, Mr. Sutcliffe, don't worry. You'll be fine."

Undertaker joined the doctor in attempting to encourage Grell, grinning and squeezing Grell's hand. "What did I tell you, Princess? Everything will be fine."

Grell just nodded and began to chew his lower lip. Undertaker pressed a finger to Grell's lips and shook his head, still grinning.

"Ah, what we need is a good joke! A first rate laugh!" Undertaker exclaimed, slapping his knee.

"Sorry, old man. I'm a physician, not a comedian," Dr. Wright said apologetically.

"Ah well, can't help your shortcomings," Undertaker said, teasing the doctor.

Things became quiet after that, though Undertaker did start humming and swaying back and forth in his seat, as though in a world all his own, which he was most days. Stress wasn't his thing. It was useless and made one miserable. His mind traveled the path of the latest amusements he'd had back in the Earthly realm.

Undertaker's attention shifted when the secretary's phone rang. After the she took a call, she waved Dr. Wright over, then came around the large counter and led him away to one of the many offices. Undertaker patted Grell on the knee when he noticed his Princess become more tense.

"Easy, Princess. No one is taking you away from me. Just remember that. They couldn't take my death scythe and they certainly won't take you," Undertaker murmured.

Grell gave him a tremulous smile and settled back into his chair.

"That's a good girl," Undertaker purred and kissed Grell on the cheek just before the woman returned. "Just remember, you've got a little nipper to take care of. Think only of the child and trust me to take care of the rest."

Grell smiled gratefully at Undertaker and rested a hand on his abdomen. "Do you think we'll have a boy or a girl?"

"Too early to tell, Princess. Hm, we won't know until I cut you open and take it out," Undertaker said.

"There you go again, calling our child an 'it'!" Grell huffed.

Undertaker giggled behind his hand. At least Grell was no longer fretting.

"I am going to find a way to punish you for that," Grell threatened with a scowl.

"Ooh, so cruel is my mistress," Undertaker crooned and plucked at a long lock of red hair.

"You deserve it, Mister." Grell crossed his arms and glared at Undertaker, but couldn't keep up the act for long. "You sweet old coot. I know what you're doing. Thanks."

Suddenly, the sound of laughter, loud and raucous, echoed down the hallway in which Dr. Wright had disappeared. It went on for a few moments until there was a loud clunking noise. The footsteps stomping down the hall turned out to be Dr. Wright. He had a scowl on his face as he crooked a finger at Grell and Undertaker, signalling them to come with him.

"Let the play begin," Grell muttered, clinging to Undertaker's arm as they followed the doctor down the hall and into one of offices.

The door had a fancy name plate declaring the importance of the room's occupant, 'Director Clarence Lightner'. The man inside the office was still chuckling as he picked up his chair from where it had fallen behind his desk. He was tall and thick, his features fatherly and pleasant. His hair and mustache were dark and short. Undertaker kept an eye on him as he and Grell stood with Dr. Wight, waiting for the man to situate himself.

"Now, gentlemen," Director Lightner said after sitting down and staring up at his guests. "I'm told that a male shinigami is pregnant. Not that I don't trust the esteemed Dr. Wright, but I want a second opinion."

The man's eyes sparkled with mirth. Undertaker was certain the Director believed they were trying to play some kind of elaborate hoax on him.

"Just how many people have to paw me before you figure it out?" Grell asked unpleasantly, baring his teeth.

"Ah, Mr. Sutcliffe. You've been on probation several times," the Director said with a frown. "I do hope this isn't another one of your plays for attention."

Undertaker stepped in front of Grell before the redhead could retort. The less stress on Grell, the better.

"Clarence," Undertaker drawled, removing his hat and materializing his scythe. "If I was in your position, I wouldn't believe it either, but have a care when speaking to my Princess."

"Death?" the Director questioned, pushing his glasses up his nose and squinting.

Undertaker carded his fingers through his bangs and peeled them back so that the Director could get a good look. "Yes. You know I'm created, not born. If anyone could father a child, it would be me."

Undertaker was fully aware that he was twisting the truth a bit, but it would be dangerous to mention exactly how he'd managed to impregnate a male shinigami.

The Director appeared to be at a loss for words for a few moments, and the trio was polite enough to allow him to goggle Undertaker.

"Uh, eh, even so, Mr. Sutcliffe is male. And, how dare you show your face here, Death? We overlook you most of the time, but you're pushing the boundaries," the Director said, but there was no malice in his words. "Put that thing away!"

Undertaker banished his scythe. He'd only brought it out to prove his identity, not to threaten anyone.

"My...partner _is_ pregnant, I assure you," Undertaker asserted.

"If that is true, I'm going to need at least two confirmations from respectable sources, two of our own down at the clinic on the first floor. Do that, and I'll call a meeting of the department heads," Director Lawrence stated.

Undertaker turned to Grell with a questioning gaze and Grell nodded his assent. "Set it up and we'll go there right now."

"I suggest doctors Bonnier and Alexander. They have the best sight for this sort of thing," Dr. Wright recommended.

"I agree, Greg. I'll get them on the phone. You three get downstairs," Director Lightner instructed.

"First..." Dr. Wright opened his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope and dropped it on the desk. "Diagnosis and medical recommendations for the patient."

Director Lightner nodded as he pressed a button on his phone then waved them out as he spoke to the secretary. "Get me doctors Bonnier and Alexander on a conference call, immediately."

On the tail end of the call, Dr. Wright shut the door behind him and the three stood in the hall for a moment.

"I think we'll take a back entrance to the clinic. Follow me," he said and walked ahead of Grell and Undertaker.

"Hn, I haven't ever heard Clarence laugh so loud," Undertaker commented as he took Grell's hand and started walking behind the doctor.

"I'm sure he won't be laughing later," Grell replied.

"Who knows?" Undertaker said with a smile. "But, no matter the reason, it is always good to hear laughter."

Grell just snorted and rolled his eyes.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	16. Chapter 16

_**Chapter 16**_

Undertaker was pleasantly surprised at the swift action within Dispatch. Doctors Bonnier and Alexander canceled their appointments per the Director's orders and were waiting when the trio reached the clinic. Their professional behavior seemed to calm Grell's nerves somewhat and the medical exams went smoothly. It helped that Grell was familiar with both doctors.

On the return trip to Lightner's floor, Bonnier and Alexander joined Dr. Wright, Grell, and Undertaker. Undertaker was beginning to think that his Princess was attracting his own court for castle life. He chuckled at the thought.

"What?" Grell asked, giving Undertaker a curious stare.

"Oh, I was just thinking...I'll tell you later," Undertaker said, glancing meaningfully at the doctors, who were in close quarters.

They were all trapped in a small metal box that was hovering several stories above ground. Not Undertaker's favorite place. He wouldn't die if the thing fell, though it would hurt like a bitch. His problem was sharing the enclosed space with more than one breathing body. Corpses, he didn't mind. The living were a different matter. He liked his freedom and solitude, even if it was in his own coffin.

Finally, the doors to the elevator slid open and everyone piled out. Dr. Wright instructed Grell and Undertaker to stay in the waiting room. The doctors would first consult with Director Lightner. Undertaker was relieved that they would be saving Grell from the stress of whatever petty things they wished to discuss about his condition.

"I think this is going well," Grell said once they had taken seats.

"Yes, it is," Undertaker agreed and patted Grell's leg, glad that the tension had lessened by a significant degree. He didn't want Grell losing the child because of the ignorance and short-sightedness of London Dispatch.

In order to distract Grell while they waited, Undertaker hummed a little tune and played with Grell's hair, occasionally tapping the skull hanging from the beaded chain that secured Grell's glasses. His playfulness occasionally earned him a sweet smile from the red head..

Undertaker wasn't certain how much time had passed before department heads began appearing in the halls, all on their way to the two huge, wooden, double doors at the end of the hall directly in front of the waiting room.

"It won't be long now," Undertaker said. He knew there could only be a few department heads that needed information on the situation, less than ten probably.

"Yeah, and those guys don't seem to know what's going on yet," Grell said just as the doctors and the head Director came around the corner and headed down to the conference room.

Dr. Wright gave them a reassuring nod as he rounded the corner behind the Director, then continued on until he disappeared behind the large doors as well.

"I wonder if they'll laugh as well," Grell said, puckering his lips into a pout.

"I doubt it, not with three doctors to attest to the situation," Undertaker replied.

Undertaker didn't mention that he had made a number of enemies within the ranks of those men when he'd fought to keep his death scythe. It wouldn't be good for Grell to anticipate a fight. Hopefully, Grell would be perceived as too valuable to endanger and the prigs would keep their tempers in check.

Time crawled, and once or twice, Undertaker heard shouting, the loudest a voice he remembered from times long passed. Undertaker wasn't happy with what he was hearing, but he kept that to himself and kept a smile on his face for Grell. Had he been younger, he might have been angry, but he was far too old to be ruled by those emotions.

Finally, Director Lightner stepped out of the door and waved at the pair. Undertaker could see Doctor Wright directly behind Lightner. He sprung up and offered Grell a hand, helping him stand.

"Let's get this over with," Grell muttered.

Undertaker nodded. He would be glad when his Princess was no longer under the oppression of Dispatch rule. Today certainly made him miss the weeks of their exciting affair in which Grell had been happier than he'd ever seen his Princess. He would make it up to his Princess, though. He'd been collecting the queen's coin for his work and owed his lover a shopping trip in London.

"Why don't you rid yourself of those ridiculous mourning robes before we go in," Dr. Wright suggested, popping out from behind the door. "We need to put up a strong front for those who aren't exactly pleased."

"He's right, Sweetie. You're quite impressive when you present yourself as a reaper," Grell added.

"You two are ganging up on me," Undertaker muttered, but quickly divested himself of all but his shirt, long outer coat, and Grell's favorite leather pants, complimentary straps and buckles polished to a shine.

"Take this and pull your hair up," Grell instructed and took off his beaded glasses retainer.

Undertaker was quite partial to the skulls on the chain, so he did as bid and wound his hair up into a high ponytail with the thin chain.

"Oh my. You're so handsome, I could eat you whole!" Grell blurted, blushing and grinning up at Undertaker through his thick false eyelashes.

Undertaker chuckled and shook his head, glad that the doctor was smiling instead of behaving as though he had a stick up his ass.

Once the small group entered the room, they were presented with the end of a very large table around which sat all of the officers. The Director led them to the head of the table where two chairs had been pulled up from the sides of the room.

Undertaker was relieved that they were seated with the Director and doctors. He'd have time to pull his death scythe if any of the department heads decided to become too frisky. By their expressions, a few were less than happy campers. One appeared downright hostile. Undertaker gave that one a menacing grin that just dared him to try anything.

Undertaker's mind was put at ease when the majority of those in the room seemed genuinely curious about Grell, if not completely awed by Undertaker's presence.

"Now that we are all here," the Director began, "I think we can all agree that there is ample testimony to the evidence of Mr. Sutcliffe's condition."

There were nods all around before the Director continued.

"Mr. Sutcliffe, we were debating how to deal with this situation. The department heads and I agree that it is in the best interest of all shinigami that you remain in this realm where you can be closely monitored and cared for by our physicians."

"No," Undertaker said flatly.

"I'm sorry, Death, but you have no standing in this matter," Director Lawrence replied.

"I most certainly do, considering I'm the father," Undertaker replied with a grin that was anything but pleasant.

"And I won't go anywhere without him," Grell added.

"I just say we end this charade and kill the abomination now!"

Undertaker's eyes snapped to the speaker as Grell grabbed his arm. "Lynch, why aren't you dead yet?"

"Let's not begin hostilities," the Director cut in. "Lynch, hold your tongue."

Lynch, a towering hulk of a male with russet hair and sharp, gaunt features, stood, leaned forward and pressed his hands to the table. He glared at the Director, then at Undertaker.

"I don't know how that deserter managed it, perhaps a deal with a demon, but his spawn can't be natural."

The two sitting on either side of Lynch nodded in agreement. They were of smaller stature, but formidable just the same.

"It has a soul, Lynch," the Director reminded him.

Lynch sneered. "I saw the report. It's corrupt!"

Director Lightner sighed. "It is different. That does not mean it is corrupt."

"We might have gotten away with allowing Death keep his scythe, but do you think we'll get away with allowing that abomination to live?" Lynch spat.

"Allowing?" Undertaker asked as he slowly stood then materialized his scythe. "I kept this by my own power. If you wish to try me again, fine, but I assure you, you will have no better luck wresting Grell Sutcliffe away from me."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," the Director called.

The other two stood next to Lynch and all three materialized their own death scythes, none quite so elegant as Undertaker's, the mortician noted.

"I think you have scythe envy, Lynch," Undertaker said with a smirk. "What's wrong, can't get it to work for you?"

"That's it!"

Lynch jumped onto the table as everyone scattered backward, except Undertaker, who joined him, scythe raised and the bottom of his jacket flaring with hidden grave markers.

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**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17**_

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_The next chapter is the last. I am considering extending the story, but haven't received enough feedback to warrant that. PM me if you want an extension. If I get enough requests, I'll continue it, but it will go at a slower rate with longer chapters._

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"Shit!" Dr. Wright hissed and grabbed Grell, dragging him back into a corner as Undertaker and Lynch crossed scythes on top of the table. "Don't try to materialize your scythe, Mr. Sutcliffe. It could hurt the baby!"

"I know, I know!" Grell cried out. When more reapers materialized their scythes, Grell's fighting instincts kicked in and he began struggling against the doctor once again, though he didn't attempt to materialize his scythe.

"Damn it, Grell! Calm down," Dr. Wright practically shouted just before Grell froze.

Piercing white light blinded everyone in the room. Dr. Wright shielded Grell with his body as a harsh wind exploded out from the center of the room. Reapers were picked up off their feet from the force of the blast and everyone ended up crashing against the walls, including Undertaker and Lynch.

"Grell!" Undertaker shouted, blinking as the light began to diminish.

"I'm okay!" Grell yelled. "What happened?"

_"You are not allowed,"_ a booming voice echoed from within a light that now hovered over the center of the table. _"The soul is a new creation and the child a new creature. You are not allowed to destroy it."_

As the voice spoke, the light continued to abate until an angel appeared, all white, down to its glowing eyeballs. It would have been lovely to look upon if Undertaker didn't know the true nature of angels when they slipped their leashes. Insane, the lot of them. In Undertaker's estimation, that was exactly why shinigami were created.

_"You,"_ the angel said, pointing to Undertaker with a sword and grimacing, obviously unimpressed with the mortician, _"have favor. However, you must unmake your 'dolls'. Do not delay."_

Then, the angel and all its shining glory simply blinked out of existence.

Undertaker wanted to snarl. How had he merited the notice of the heavenly spirits? That could not be a good thing. Shit! Now he would have to be on his best behavior! He could thumb his nose at Dispatch all he liked, but he couldn't ignore the next tier. They were too powerful. Unmake his dolls!? Damnation! There went his bargaining chip with Dispatch.

"Undertaker?"

Grell's shaky voice quickly got Undertaker's attention and he peeled himself away from the wall. He was still seeing spots from the bright light, but he managed to skirt the strewn chairs and make his way to Grell, who was sitting in a corner beside Dr. Wright.

"Princess," Undertaker said, crouching down in front of Grell. "Are you all right?"

"I-I don't know. I feel kind of sick and sleepy all the sudden," Grell replied.

Grell was trembling and appeared pale. Undertaker pressed a hand to his cheek then his forehead. He was cold and clammy.

"Damned angel," Undertaker muttered. "I think you need to lie down."

Dr. Wright felt Grell's face as well then grabbed his wrist.

"There's a sick room on this floor," the Director said from behind Undertaker.

Undertaker looked up and saw that the other department heads had begun gathering around, minus Lynch and his cronies.

"He's in shock," Dr. Wright informed them, frowning.

"Fucking angels," Undertaker swore again in a whisper.

"I'll go make sure there's warm blankets in the sick room," someone said.

"I'll get something to drink and snacks," another voice said.

"Can I do anything?" Another voice.

"Everyone can just back the hell up." Dr. Bonnier began shoving people aside. "Give him some room to breathe."

"Grell?" Undertaker called when Grell's head tipped back against the wall and his eyes fell shut.

Dr. Wright's lips pressed together in a thin line. "I think he'll be fine, but we need to get him horizontal. Too much excitement, its well past time he had something to eat, and too much power in this room for his condition."

"Carry him, Death. I'll show you to the sick room," Director Lightner demanded, though Undertaker didn't need the Director's instructions.

Undertaker carefully worked his arms under Grell until he knew he had a solid hold. As he lifted, he heard the department heads clearing debris out of the way. Director Lightner was a solid presence that opened the way as he followed with Grell snugly pressed to his torso. Dr. Wright was behind him, speaking to the other two doctors about various pieces of equipment he was considering having brought up to monitor Grell's condition. That worried Undertaker even more.

He _shouldn't_ be worried. If this pregnancy was so blessed that an actual angel would show up, Grell should be fine. The baby should be fine. That logic didn't mean shit when he glanced down at Grell's pale face, lips drained of color, and completely unresponsive. Grell hadn't looked this dead when Undertaker had opened a coffin to find Grell's unbreathing form in a coffin in the funeral shop's parlor. The baby might make it through everything just fine, but that didn't guarantee Grell's health.

Undertaker silently cursed angels again. They were too damn powerful for their own good. He _might_ apologize for cursing them after Grell woke up and gained some color. _Maybe_. Ignorant, self-absorbed, holier-than-thou, blasted creatures! He could only fantasize about kicking their asses for messing with his...lover's health.

There was that word again. _Love_. That issue could wait. He didn't have time for that headache right now.

The trip to the the sick room had been a blur. Undertaker had been either glancing at the Director's back to make sure he was on track or watching Grell for any sign he was coming to his senses. By the time he entered the small room, Grell's lips had begun to gain a slight pink. That was a good sign.

A small single bed rested in the corner. The sheet and blankets had been pulled down and a fresh fluffy pillow gently cradled Grell's head when Undertaker laid him down. One of the department head's pulled the blankets up over Grell while another brought a chair for Undertaker.

When Undertaker noticed a tray of snacks and a pitcher of water on top of a small set of drawers with two cups, not just one, sitting beside the bed, he realized how solicitous the members of Dispatch were behaving. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was a given that he and Grell would be left alone now, especially after the incident with the angel. Well, maybe he didn't need his dollies any longer.

Rather than taking Grell into hiding, the risk of this trip had been more than worth it. He would no longer need to hide from the other reapers and could provide a normal life for Grell and his child. Remembering Dr. Wright's words about nothing worth its value ever being easy to obtain, he wondered if the doctor had exceptional foresight.

Now, if he could only solve the mystery of where love figured into the equation.

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**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18**_

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_I'm aware that the anesthetics used in the old days entered the baby's system and that wasn't always a good thing, but this is the Victorian era. This chapter was as far as I could stretch the story for the challenge. I'm unhappy that I couldn't take more time in getting to this phase of Grell and Undertaker's relationship, but it is what it is. I hope you've enjoyed the story. Thank you to those who have taken the time and made the effort to offer me cookies/reviews. :) _

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Undertaker sat against the wall next to the open window, gazing at Grell while he slept peacefully in the relatively new fluffy bed. Moonlight stretched across the lumpy surface of covers, but the light didn't seem to bother Grell at all, as attested to by the cutest tiny snores Undertaker had ever heard. It had taken a lot to train Grell to breathe during his sleep, but he still wasn't very good at it.

A small fire glowed red across from the bed, dulling autumn's chill breeze. Fresh air was supposed be be good for Grell and the baby, so the window was frequently left open. Besides, Undertaker had a peeping butler to catch tonight. While waiting for his prey, Undertaker reminisced about the changes in his life the past several months.

Undertaker had come up with a magnificent scheme; instead of charging coin, he had his customers bring him what he needed, or traded services. Bartering for things was just as easy, if not easier, than bartering for laughs. Of course, he still accepted coin on rare occasion, when the customer couldn't trade or give him a good laugh, but that just meant his lovely Princess had whatever she needed.

Upon finding out that Undertaker was finally trading in more than laughs, Earl Ciel Phantomhive had actually given him a small parcel of land out in the country. A sweet cottage sat adjacent to a quiet brook, facing a small meadow. Grell enjoyed it immensely and it provided the peace and serenity he needed while housing the little life inside of him.

Ciel had told Undertaker that it was for his years of service to, not only himself, but his parents, grandparents, and however far back his service extended. That was a secret Undertaker wasn't going to give up lightly, no matter how badly Ciel wanted to know. Some things, most things even, needed to stay in the past where they belonged. The present was all that truly mattered.

Today, however, Undertaker wondered if his service to Ciel had been the only reason the little Phantomhive had given him the cottage. He had noted the occasional presence of Ciel's demon butler and assumed that Ciel had sent him to check up on them. With Grell nearing his due date, Undertaker didn't appreciate the increased frequency of the late night visits. That wasn't something Ciel would order his demon to do.

Tonight, the demon butler was going to explain his behavior.

Grell stirred as the aura of Sebastian approached and Undertaker wondered if his Princess could feel the presence as well. It was poor taste on the demon butler's part. The demon should have hid himself better. Or was it intentional? Undertaker's eyes narrowed at that thought and he prepared himself, setting his feet apart and keeping his arms loose at his side.

Moments later, a black cat hopped onto the sill of the window, all of its attention on Undertaker's chosen. Stupid demon. Undertaker narrowed his eyes, unaccountably pissed. In a flash, he grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck.

"What do we have here?" he hissed, lifting the cat up until they were glaring at each other. "Show yourself, demon."

He tossed the cat to the floor and Sebastian morphed into his butler's guise. Undertaker wanted to wipe the smirk off the demon's face. How dare the demon gaze upon his lover so freely.

"Why are you always sneaking about here at night?" Undertaker asked, and his tone wasn't the least bit polite.

"Why did you send me on an errand you knew would either severely injure or kill me, while knowing I could give you what you wanted from my own body? Where did you think your prime ingredient originated?" Sebastian returned, smirking.

"And that brings you here, why?" Undertaker asked with a menacing grin.

Unruffled, the demon stepped toward Undertaker and leaned in. "That child is partially _mine_."

"No, I cleansed the larvae. It was an empty shell when I used it for _my_ seed and cells from Grell," Undertaker replied.

"My body, my shell, _my_ child," Sebastian insisted.

Grell shifted again and Undertaker glanced over at him. His cute little snores had stopped. They would wake him if this continued.

"Let's take this outside," he murmured and hopped out the window, closely followed by Sebastian.

Undertaker led Sebastian to an arching bridge that spanned the brook and turned on him once they reached the center.

"We will never agree, demon. What do you want?"

"A part in the child's life. Uncle perhaps?" Sebastian replied and tilted his head in question.

"You're no brother of mine," Undertaker stated coldly.

"Cousin? If the child has demonic abilities, it will need someone to coach it."

Undertaker thought about it for a few moments while he studied Sebastian. He doubted the child would have any demonic traits, but one couldn't be too careful. One good thing about the butler, he stuck to his aesthetics. "You'll follow rules of behavior?"

"What rules?"

"Demons are crafty. I'm not going to enter a bargain with you, least of all, unprepared. I'll make a list of rules and add to it when the need arises."

If the demon ended up being a part of his and Grell's lives, it needed to have some kind of leash, and that was assuming Sebastian stuck around. Undertaker was still considering how to kill the demon before it could devour Ciel's soul.

Sebastian nodded. "There's something else."

"What is it?" Undertaker asked, suspiciously. He didn't want the demon making any claims on his and Grell's child.

The demon hesitated. "I plan to take a mate...a male..."

It took a moment for the meaning behind Sebastian's words to sink in. "And your larvae would eat the host without my special...conditioning," Undertaker added.

Sebastian nodded. "My chosen won't be able to mate for a few years yet."

Undertaker froze. "You plan to mate Ciel Phantomhive?"

"It will give him immortality without turning him into a demon or damning his soul," Sebastian hastily replied.

A human and a demon. Could it be done? How could it be done? That was completely different than two shinigami that simply needed a shell. On top of that, Sebastian would need to work out how to avoid the curse should he fail to keep his end of the contract with Ciel. That bastard had some hard work ahead of him. Maybe he'd get himself killed avoiding the contract and Undertaker wouldn't need to lift a finger. He smiled at the thought

"I would need blood and tissue samples to test compatibility," he said, despite believing the process would never be initiated. "With you and Ciel, the process won't be as simple. Human flesh does not blend well with the flesh from creatures of other planes."

"I know, but I also know you. You will find a way. Think of it as payment for my contribution to your happy little family," Sebastian answered with that damnable smug smirk.

Undertaker didn't appreciate the demon behaving as though there had been a debt. The contribution had been payment for information given to the demon's master. Ah, but for the sake of a new experiment, Undertaker would allow it. Things around the shop had been rather dull lately. Maybe the demon would surprise him and survive.

"I won't guarantee results, but I will make the attempt," Undertaker agreed, but clarified. "However, I'm making no demon's bargain."

Sebastian bowed in agreement. Before he could rise, there was a cry from the cottage. Both males dashed back and leapt through the window. Grell was sitting up in bed, holding his distended belly and groaning.

"Pumpkin, what's the matter!? Is it time?" Undertaker asked as he leaned over Grell and put a hand on the tightly rounded belly.

Undertaker was shocked when Grell punched him square in the jaw, but he had learned to take such things in stride. He'd known his Princess was a firecracker from the very start.

"I've told you not to call me a pumpkin, you ass! This is all your fault! I've lost my girlish figure and I'm as huge as a mansion!" Grell cried. "You're so mean to me."

"I'm sorry, Princess. You're just so cute that I can't help but concoct every endearment possible," Undertaker replied, hoping to placate Grell by rubbing his belly.

Grell sniffled. "It hurts, like the baby is trying to claw its way out."

"It's time," Sebastian said. "I'll heat some water and grab the necessary items."

"You stocked the cottage, so you should know where everything is," Undertaker said without taking his eyes off Grell.

"Why's Sebas-chan here?" Grell asked through tears and sniffles.

"We had some business to discuss, but don't worry. With him assisting, this will go far easier for me and quicker for you," Undertaker said soothingly.

"That's nice," Grell sniffled. "I don't get to see much of Sebby anymore."

"Well, how would you like to see him more often?" Undertaker offered, despite being somewhat irked that Grell would want the demon near at all.

"Oh, that would be nice. I might not have the hots for him anymore, but we will need a babysitter sometimes."

Undertaker grinned and wondered what cousin Sebastian thought about that! Hah!

"Why don't you lay back and we'll give you back your girlish curves," Undertaker said and adjusted Grell's pillows.

"Aren't you going to knock me out?" Grell asked and sniffed.

"When Sebastian returns with the supplies, I'll put you right to sleep, Princess."

Grell nodded and laid back on his pillows. Undertaker brushed his hair out away from his face then pulled all the blankets down except for the sheet. Sebastian entered with a serving cart filled with supplies, including hot water, surgery tools, anesthetic, towels, and more. Undertaker soaked a cloth with the anesthetic.

"Close your eyes, Princess. I'm going to cover your mouth and nose with a wet cloth. You won't like the smell, but I want you to breathe deep several times and count backward from one hundred," Undertaker instructed.

"Kay," Grell said and closed his eyes.

Undertaker covered the lower half of Grell's face. He was surprised at the ease of Grell's cooperation. There were no complaints, only deep breaths and counting. Grell was out by the end of five counts.

"Let's get this done. I worry about the anesthetic getting to the baby," Undertaker said and pulled the sheet down.

Slicing through dead tissue was one thing. Living tissue was another matter entirely. Undertaker took great care and that's why it took longer than he had estimated. Sebastian had to reapply the anesthetic a second time.

It took forty-five minutes to perform the surgery because Undertaker was taking extra special care with sterilizing and with his scalpels. Additionally, there wasn't all the soft tissue a female would have to protect the baby. On a corpse, he'd have had it open in a flash. This was delicate work in comparison.

Finally, Undertaker lifted a small ball of flesh topped with a head of black hair and handed it to Sebastian, who held it gingerly while Undertaker started to clean. He paused when he didn't hear any crying.

"Humans generally slap its bottom to jump start the lungs," he said to Sebastian.

"How crude." Sebastian sat the infant on the table then covered its mouth and nose with his own.

Undertaker grimaced when he heard a sucking sound. Sebastian rose and spat on floor then repeated the process. This time, when he came away, the infant screeched. Thank Death for small lungs.

Undertaker breathed a sigh of relief and went back to cleaning and stitching. As soon as he was finished, he took the cloth away from Grell's face. He threw all of the bloody materials in a bucket, including the towels he'd slid underneath Grell for the procedure.

By the time Undertaker had finished making things presentable for the new mother, Sebastian had bathed the infant and wrapped it in a soft, yellow blanket that Grell had knitted. Grell and sharp objects were well suited to one another. More than once, a knitting needle had been used to skewer a field mouse. The memories brought a smile to Undertaker's face as he held his hands out for his child.

"Healthy and lovely. He has my hair," Sebastian said, causing Undertaker to scowl.

"Most infants are either bald or have black hair," Undertaker said. "The hair falls out and the true color comes in later."

Sebastian gave him that irritating smirk. "With humans."

Undertaker ignored the demon and laid the infant at the end of the bed while Sebastian began taking out the supplies. The mortician carefully unfolded the blanket to inspect his child, the culmination of his experiment. Five fingers, five toes. The child kept curling its legs up under its belly, so Undertaker finally gripped its feet and hung it upside down in the air.

A girl!

Grell was going to be so thrilled! Undertaker grinned broadly and laid the shivering child back down on the yellow blanket. After wrapping her up, he ran his hand over her thin coat of downy hair. Downy...Undertaker grabbed his magnifying glass and looked closer.

"Fuck me..." Undertaker said after sucking in a breath.

Sebastian had been correct. Miniscule feathery down covered the baby's head.

"I purified it. There shouldn't be any demon aspects," Undertaker muttered. Then he remembered. "Damn it! This was my creation, not yours!"

Undertaker shook his fist at the ceiling. The higher ups had had the last laugh on him. Their new creation wasn't just shinigami, but demon as well. Only time would tell what else the heavenly realm had done. Shit.

Undertaker stood there, staring. His child was part demon. Demons, the same creatures that devoured souls and held them in their bellies until the demon perished. Would this child require souls? Undertaker didn't think he could provide that. He sighed and put a hand over his eyes until he heard slurping noises.

When he looked down, chartreuse eyes stared back at him as the little girl sucked her fist. Maybe she could drink milk. He could only hope she would be something resembling normal.

The two watched each other, or at least, Undertaker thought she was gazing at him. He wasn't entirely certain. Shinigami were always nearsighted and she had their eyes. They were at a stand off until she raised her arm and waved it back and forth, hand still fisted. She gurgled, blew bubbles, then let out a squeal that had him grabbing her off the bed.

"Shhh, mother isn't awake yet," Undertaker informed the infant as he rocked her gently.

The baby answered with small garbled noises and started sucking on her fist again, still staring up at him. Undertaker ran his fingers over her downy feathered head. She surprised him when she reached up and grabbed his thumb.

"Nice grip you've got there, Cutie," Undertaker said, smiling down at her.

She smiled back and cooed at him.

"It seems I'm a godfather," Sebastian stated from the doorway.

Undertaker grimaced. "So it seems."

The baby scrunched up her nose, but couldn't hold the expression and went back to sucking a fist with the hand not holding Undertaker's thumb.

"Already teaching her bad habits and I haven't even received a list of rules yet," Sebastian commented as he stared at his goddaughter.

"Don't be a wise ass, first rule," Undertaker said with a smirk and the little girl smiled. "See? She agrees with me."

"Tsk. Watch your language. Little pitchers have big ears and learn earlier than you'd think. Have you chosen a name yet?"

"Grell is keeping it a secret," Undertaker said. "She wants to surprise me."

"I'll bet," Sebastian said, sighing. "I can almost like him now, or at least respect what he's done."

"Wondering if you'll be able to do the same?" Undertaker asked, challenging Sebastian's choice.

Sebastian's eyes widened. "I...had planned on Ciel doing the carrying."

"You have a better chance of a safe and successful pregnancy," Undertaker said. "You're more resilient, even if you do make Ciel immortal."

Sebastian looked thoughtful then nodded. "I suppose."

Undertaker was pleased at throwing the demon a curve ball. "I expect you to treat Ciel better now that you don't plan to eat him."

"That goes without saying," Sebastian retorted.

"And what about his fiance, the Lady Elizabeth Middleford?"

Sebastian smirked. "I've already found her another human she won't be able to resist."

"From one of the royal houses?" Undertaker pried.

"Nothing but the best for Lady Elizabeth."

"Ciel is aware?"

"Of Elizabeth's new prospect, yes. He's thrilled."

"Good. And you intend to properly woo young Ciel?" Undertaker pressed.

"Of course. According to the magic camera, I'm already the most important person in his life," Sebastian said with smug satisfaction.

"You do work fast."

"I'm one hell of a butler," Sebastian said with a low bow.

"Keep him happy or I'll happily reap your demon soul," Undertaker threatened.

"Ung..."

Undertaker nearly startled at the groan coming from the bed and hurried over to Grell. Sebastian grabbed a glass of water and stood on the opposite side of the bed.

"Grell?" Undertaker called softly. "Princess, wake up and meet your baby girl."

"Ng, girl?" Grell croaked.

"Yes, my lovely, a beautiful girl with rosy cheeks and red, red lips. She's amazing," Undertaker murmured as Grell blinked himself awake.

"Lemme see." Grell lifted an arm, but it flopped down onto the bed, not yet cooperating.

Undertaker lifted the infant so that Grell could get a good look at her.

"Oh, I knew my little Rose would be so pretty. Isn't she, Sweetie?" Grell asked. His fatigue was obvious, but he did manage to give Undertaker a small smile.

"Yes, she is. Let Sebastian give you some water, then you should try to sleep and rest," Undertaker replied, holding the little girl in one arm while he brushed his fingers through Grell's hair.

Grell nodded and allowed Sebastian to lift his head and press a cup to his lips. After a few moments, Grell dropped right back off to sleep.

"Rose...appropriate. I'm surprised he chose so well," Sebastian commented.

"Grell's favorite color is passionate red, after all," Undertaker replied.

"I should get back to my master's household. It has been...satisfying," Sebastian said with a short nod of his head.

"Thank you for your assistance." Undertaker wasn't happy to thank the demon, but it was necessary.

"It's the least I could do, since I was already here. Until next time," Sebastian said and let himself out.

Undertaker was relieved that the demon was gone and laid Rose in the bed next to Grell. He quickly stripped and climbed into bed as well, keeping Rose between himself and Grell.

"Well, dear Rose. You picked an auspicious night to come into the world, All Hallows' Eve."

Undertaker and Rose gazed at one another, Undertaker with a bit of suspicion.

"Did you teach that demon to love, just like you did with this crusty old reaper? Hm?" Undertaker asked Rose as he glanced over to Grell, the light of his life, and the one who he could admit he loved more than life itself.

"Ngyah," Rose gurgled around her fist and Undertaker chuckled.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. Maybe there is yet hope for all hell spawn," Undertaker murmured and smiled at the new light in his life.

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**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters._


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